A Broken Matrix
by hummergrey
Summary: Jazz is a spy, saboteur, TIC and head of Special Operations. His newest recruit is a femme and damaged former Prime whom he falls for. Complicating their romance are Decepticon Assassins, the Wreckers including Hot Rod & Arcee, and Dinobots to make anything is possible. A fic of recovery, a little romance and a lot of Operations training. G1, TF Prime canon plus. Updated regularly.
1. Chapter 1 Trade a secret for a secret

"I will trade a secret for a secret," Solspark offered, starting it all. Inside the Ark's command area, her soprano vocals clearly transmitted over the miles back to Mt St Hilary.

"Femme, you do not want to play that game with me. You do not know what you could start," Jazz teased, tapping out another time entry. The white armored mech lounged in a chair before the main console of Teletran One, her silver blue Bugatti Veyron image remote and with no Decepticon activity nearby he relaxed watching her. Catching up on reports after a long field mission he had received her signal, adding it to the log as more of a boredom breaker until they began talking. A once over of her personnel file triggered no warning flags. The femme was classified as a general worker, joining the Autobot Alliance halfway in the war with transfers here and there across Cybertron and its' moon bases. No unusual skills or modifications were listed that he could find as Third in Command or Head of Special Operations. In short, no expected problems or overt significance.

"Neither do you."

"You first on what is worth trading for," he challenged, having long developed the skill set to gain information, often without the bot realizing how much they were giving away. Not everything worth knowing sat in a stagnant data file.

"To see your face. Without the visor, in front of mine. No hiding, your raw optical color." On screen her tires spun for traction, earth's dust kicking up as she switched roads to one rutted and narrower weaving towards OR – 35 N. Teletran logged another tracking sensor passed, the energon signal strong as she tested the detection range with her driving.

Sputtering static met Solspark's request then sounds of him chuckling. "My optics are blue, always have been. That is not a secret. Only thing I change is my taste in music, forever adding new. No need to see under my visor, it is a tactical tool, so no bot knows which direction my optics are looking. And you so do not know what I want," Jazz teased.

"Try me."

"I want the char mark down your shoulder and across the spark armor. The whole story, not just a name or some vague it is to remember some bot like you told the others. Why do you still wear it on new armor? I want the deep dark secret behind it. Or maybe I could tell you why Wheelajck always wears his lower face shield," he challenged, using a rule of interrogation to pose questions that are misleading to elicit information.

Soft laughter echoed back over the console speakers. "I already traded him for that. I saw the damage the crystals did and their energy colors. I traded him the design for my power relays around my spark, a special and unique pattern. "

"You didn't? Dang girl, you are learning the game. How about why Bumblebee and Cliffjumper have horns on their helms?" The reason not a secret but an indicator of how close she might come to his team and their skills. They rarely shared personal information with their own teammates, let alone new arrivals.

"Too easy. Traded shifting circuity designs for armor upgrades for emergency field work."

"Always trade your parts for information? Might run out of good stuff that way," he teased, interested. No, not interested, craving to know the information behind her char mark. Femme could find out information, so could he. "Why Ironhide's two cannons are different?"

"Pass on that one," she declared. "I heard rumors that it involved a raging fit and Ratchet and weapons are not my style. I do know the stories of how he got his childhood and later frame nicknames before becoming Ironhide. " Teletran's left side monitor updated to nine of the twenty energon markers tracked with her route.

Bartering went back and forth, each secret already known.

"It's the char mark in full or nothing sweet spark."

Silence met his demand at first, her alt mode immobile on the rural road making him check that their line remained open and active.

"Encrypted line and nothing on official records or data bursts. And only to the room you are in," she answered finally. He glanced around seeing Prime, Prowl and Ratchet standing there reviewing budget proposals mid room. All mechs with higher security clearance than him, world destroying and building level secrets. Nothing the femme could say would surprise them as Leaders of the Autobots, not even to admitting being a Decepticon at some point. And Jazz wanted the information on a personal level, so technically only the room and him in it would listen. Two keystrokes on the console and the doors locked, overrides in place to guarantee privacy.

"Deal. This room and no half answers or lies Chica."

"Autobots do not lie," Solspark's tone frosty on the line.

"Now see, you're going all noble on me. Make a lousy spy that way femme. After impressing me with ya skill set for finding out. And you are stalling," he chuckled, admiring the way her alt mode wove in and out of the dirt tracks before pulling back onto pavement. Most mechs couldn't carry a conversation and drive complicated paths, her route smooth as any scout level tech while they continued bargaining.

"When I return the only stalling will be your engines. I want private time in your quarters."

"Road bump! That is," Jazz temporized protective of his own secrets.

"To see your optics in private. And what I am about to tell you is known only to a few."

"A secret ain't a secret if the whole galaxy knows. How few?"

"Me. The rest are offlined or forgotten in time. Now you. I was a Prime once."

Optics shuttering rapidly, he put the faint sound of suspicion into his vocal tones, prodding for the truth. "Prime as in?"

"Yeah, that kind of _Prime_." The last word spoke in ancient Cybertronian, the encompassing title of Prime condensed into one word with nearly a hundred meanings. Life giver, leader, and carrier of a sacred matrix to continue the lineage of the original thirteen Primes.

"Uh huh," Jazz hesitated, leaning way back into the console chair to see the others, their perplexed expressions matching his. Optimus strode forward, careful to tread lightly and not reveal his presence over the open line. The budget proposals could wait until later.

::Switch to internal comms. Do not let her know we are listening:: Optimus Prime ordered, moving to stand alongside.

::You don't really believe that she?:: Ratchet began, gesturing towards her alt mode rolling on the OR-35 N route.

::We shall see:: Optimus Prime. ::Let her continue. Find out what you can please Jazz::

::Ain't I the best spy you got?:: Jazz sent, before switching back to spoken words to continue negotiation with Solspark. "And once? Being a Prime is spark long according to legends. And what Matrix? They were destroyed with the Primes that carried them until we one got left. Optimus acquired his from Alpha Trion and I know you ain't that ancient to have been the predecessor."

"What do you know about Irenic? Official Cybertron history?" She began, her alt mode waiting at a traffic light in the town of Hood River.

"The little spaceport way past Iacon, not much," Jazz admitted, staying focused on the conversation and not the rapid venting behind him as one of them recognized it. "History tells it was blown to bits by Megatron, we lost Prime Axial there. Mech made a last stand, seeing waves of Decepticon forces coming and faced them anyways. The battle didn't last long. Decepticon forces overran the whole area, wiped it flat. Mech became a martyr and rallying cry. Matrix shows up later without explanation and is lost again… ah… wait."

"Yes. When he offlined, the Matrix of Peace was processed destroyed with him. Not entirely true. Before the wave appeared," a bitter tone wrapped around her words. "He knew. Irenic would be wiped off the grid and join a growing list of lost battles as Decepticon forces marched on Iacon. He stayed with a few Autobots too damaged to evacuate, remote controlled weaponry buying the wounded time to escape before the wave hit."

"You were there." More of a statement than a question.

"Yes but not as a combatant. I was fresh in my final frame and completing training as medical combat support. My task was to slip through enemy lines, grab our wounded and evac out with the teams. We had already made three rescue runs, fighting 'Cons all the way inbound last trip. I don't know why but Axial pulled me aside. On the trip out," she trailed off.

"You carried the Matrix of Peace."

"Yes. My frame enhanced, power charging and I fled protecting it from capture and leaving him behind to offline. I never felt so ashamed of running nor fierce at protecting our greatest hope. A young medical assistant."

"Battle gave you the scar?" Jazz guessed, calculating her age. She was about half his age yet older than Bumblebee or others on his special operations team.

"No, the tale is just beginning. Hmm, at this rate you will owe me energon and that visor look spy bot."

"Keep providing details and you can stay the night on the recharge berth."

"Stop sign! Only if I am alone on that berth, with you guarding nearby," she laughed. "Ain't had a joor of restful recharge that I can even remember. From your reputation, nothing could get past you to hurt me in that room."

"Deal. Keep talking sweet spark, the story is getting good." Jazz typed rapidly, pulling all files on battle history and Irenic to cross reference as Optimus checked his personal files next console over, keyword search Matrix. Ratchet worked on the other side of Jazz, pulling medical records on her and known Matrix carriers. Prowl remained silently in place and guarding, ensuring the conversation stayed encrypted and uninterrupted.

"On my spark you would be safe. And?" Jazz prompted when Solspark remained quiet.

"I transferred to Stanix Region forces, keeping it a secret. The tale spread, of Irenic's loss and how the last known Prime was being hunted. Optimus Prime. I was not him. He gave us hope, I replaced broken battle armor, retrieving the wounded right out of the fighting in my new form. I couldn't lead an army. Face what he faced battle after battle. Then a scout from the Allspark Temple crossed my paths and I revealed it. I got dragged back to Iacon to learn under Alpha Trion. Then I was ordered to trade it to a mech. Only he was chosen by the Council of Autobot Elders, not me nor the Matrix. It rejected him." On screen her alt mode moved in and out of traffic by the Cascade Locks, an expensive car otherwise unremarkable.

"Bet that went over like a collapsed intake filter."

"You have no idea. Other applicants tried to handle it, each rejected. Then it allowed one. The Matrix did not open nor react but allowed the transfer. The warrior mech took it, never so much as a thank you for my service and I left back to the war front. I continued as medical support. Battles later, it returned to me when the mech offlined. The spark blast missed it, the mech bolting it under his side armor like a spare processor and not valued. Insulting was the Elite Guard officer looking anywhere but in my optics as he knelt, offering what was left of it to my safekeeping. The Matrix appearing broken with the containment case badly damaged and the core energy barely pulsing. I again carried it without announcing who or what as its weakened state prevented any frame changes to me. I became a communications expert on a Moon Base, the Matrix occasionally interweaving in the signals. Easier for me to filter messages and lock down information, sending codes and routing equipment than see the spark I just saved come back through extinguished in endless fighting. Time passed and the Council again found me, demanding I release the Matrix back.."

"They didn't learn from before? Why?"

"They believed a femme and non-leader should not carry it, damaged or not."

"Of all the inane, logic twisted," he sputtered, confirming what he could of her tale with historical records. The data matched.

"Don't start. They saw it as a controllable asset, a symbol. Council member Tomaand wanted a leader to match Optimus Prime but of their choosing. Optimus was half the planet away sending the Allspark into space against their wishes. Tomaand ordered it returned at weapons point."

"Is that your scar?" Jazz asked, no emotion in his voice. He had fought alongside Optimus to secure the Allspark and remembered the resistance, both Council and the Decepticons determined to control it. And feeling the bitterness of seeing it sent beyond Cybertron to save it.

"No. The mech that was the choice could only carry it in a subspace pocket, added to other collected Prime relics to inspire and be a symbol. Then he offlined in his first battle, a complete failure. Next choice was completely refused, the Matrix melted his hand off for daring to touch it. Not as powerless as they had processed. It rejected any touch." Her tone had sobered, a mixture of sadness and pain long worn. Her alt mode pulled into Ainsworth State Park, rolling to a stop by the hiking trail markers.

"But not yours."

"Correct. It knew me, always secured next to my spark. Even Tomaand admitted defeat in choosing handlers and I protected it again, the core energy nearly dark after their meddling. No armor shifts, and no grand changes before it soaked energy draining my spark down. Smaller, weaker and a Matrix of legend in name only. I transferred to the outer regions by the Hydrux Plateau to intercept communications between Decepticon forces and went deep cover with relay teams."

"Did the council ever?"

"No. They were gone by then; the explosion at the Grand Hall wiping them out. Their records forgotten or lost as the war raged across Cybertron. And how I got my scar is still coming. The next mech that tried to take it couldn't. He was a transport medic, and unknown to me at the time, a former researcher at the Sciences Division who recognized it during a field transport from the Acid Wastes Zone. The medic attempted to steal it from me while I recovered in stasis but was rejected, the Matrix nearly offlining him. His brother, another researcher turned carrier flight medic, somehow processed the reason for rejection as me. Not that they were unworthy or power-hungry but me. As long as I remained online and processing it would choose no other."

"What!" Jazz snapped to his feet pads, the chair slammed back. His anger driving for need for action even as her image tracked far away, the story from the distant past. "He didn't!" Echoes of rage flowed through the shared internal comm lines, the harshest swearing of Ratchet. Prime's angry engine rumbling vibrated the floor. He had been Head of the Science Division and knowing his staff to be involved in such an act a personal affront.

"For a mech who does impossible missions you like the word 'didn't' a lot you know that? A repair torch cracked my casing all the way to my spark spires, melting my armor and charring the rest. Battle injuries for which they were transporting me," Solspark vented deeply, her energy pattern on Teletran cycling off beat for a second, "left me too damaged to fight back."

"Darkened spark pit spawn!" Jazz swore softly, the heavy venting of the others multiple times over transmitting as static on the line.

"My last memory before stasis lock is his screaming. The agony of it still haunts my recharge. I came back online later at the nearest retreat outpost, a surprise I still functioned. A familiar warmth wrapped and hidden in my closed hand, ignored as medics fought to save my spark." Moving slowly, her alt mode left the park and rolled back onto the road, heading west.

"It rejected him?"

"Not completely. It showed him a vision, a warning. Cybertron destroyed, the war won quickly because there would be no bot left. His dark desires no different than the enemy he wanted to defeat. I believe he fought the Matrix trying to control it as his spark drained. My scar repaint is to remind me what happened. A healer tried to offline me for power to end a war so he could win a barren hulk. Leaders deciding to make a Prime in their lust for power, not peace. Warriors craving its power to battle not to prevent fighting with wisdom. They all wanted to desecrate a Matrix designed for life with death. Both of us broken, the Matrix and I by those who swore to protect our race."

"I got nothing. I can't even."

"Say nothing and keep our trade to show me your optics. And yes, I will show you the Matrix." Across the screen, the silver blue Bugatti Veyron slowed down the ramp, merging into I - 205 traffic smoothly heading out of the city.

"Speed limit! Isn't it uh, that is," Jazz felt out of his league. Anything that dangerous meant hands off and a need to protect her more important than any level of information obtained.

"Secured under my chest plates and next to my spark? Yes. But I can remove it without your optics watching spy bot. I need a new holding case made. The one I made is wearing down with the continual power of it. And if you can't make a better containment, you know who could. Quietly and without revealing its existence."

::Jazz accept. Ask how she kept it hidden here on earth:: Optimus instructed, his temper reigned in and the need to know more information on a possible fellow Prime the foremost concern.

"Wouldn't be a saboteur if not quiet in my actions femme. How come boss bot don't know?" he quizzed.

"Not sure. He may suspect," Solspark admitted.

Optimus shook his head side to side a negative. He had not known its existence, now or on Cybertron.

"The Matrix I carry flares briefly to life, the first time I met him and twice in fights with the Decepticons. Figured his recognizes I carry a broken one. No threat and I have never used it on earth in its weakened state, I'm not important enough for him to notice personally. My lack of combat specialties keeps me off Elita One's femme team or the Wreckers, hence my posting to earth. I am certified as communications and not about to draw attention to my past asking Prime related questions," she guessed.

::Ask her about medical. I need trained help and I never seen it:: Ratchet added, a medical image of the Peace Matrix alongside her frame design on his console screen, the space requirement confirmed.

"How about med bay? Flare to life there? Old grumpy don't miss much," Jazz joked, ignoring Ratchet's snort at his nickname use.

"Locked it in my quarters for my one full frame exam. He noticed my unique chest outlay and power coupling systems but never prodded. He did ask about the scar overlay and accepted it to remember the past. He didn't press for details, more concerned with my spotty internal functioning reports. First Aid wanted to reconfigure the empty space on a follow up visit, and I refused. Never said why and I do have field repair training and experience allowing me to avoid medics like rust rot for everything else. No major injuries in the time I have been here. I know you trust Ratchet and his team. It's just that I can't. Not yet."

"You remember a Doc trying to fry your spark."

::I would never harm her, and she could endanger herself delaying care:: Ratchet snapped.

::Call her back Jazz. We have much to discuss:: Optimus instructed.

"Look there femme. Shift change time. Get back here to some cool energon and hot secret trading."

"On my way. Solspark clear."

Jazz's hands flew over the console keys, clicking commands. Teletran One locking onto her signal, tracking her route as high priority as she returned. The outer doors unlocked lest any other bot wonder why they were inside without an explanation.

"And if her story is true?"

"Then Ratchet, I am no longer the last Prime. My Matrix places me in the direct lineage of the thirteen Primes, my destiny to destroy Unicron and end the Cybertron war."

"He's a myth. A tale told to frighten sparklings," Ratchet commented.

"To every tale there is a truth. I know not her destiny, but we will help her fulfill it. Perhaps the Matrix is disabled and a symbol only. Perhaps it holds the Wisdom of Primus and all who have held it. It also puts her in grave danger. Megatron would stop at nothing to destroy her if he discovers her existence. Prowl, I need your input on this situation," Optimus stated, glancing down at his strategist.

"We need to verify Its existence and any functioning of the Matrix within her systems. Medically is not an option with her past negative experiences."

"Negative? Pit terror! I want to slag that medic. He betrayed our most sacred oath to do no further harm!" Ratchet growled, his anger clear.

"Jazz?"

"Is time of the essence? She will show me, but I need to gain her trust. Wouldn't feel right using our new friendship for a power check," he answered.

"Wait. Power check is the answer. Red Alert requested additional sensors that could be adapted to a specific frequency. The Matrix is energy that can be transformed from her systems and it. She specifically referenced a damaged casing, indicating leakage. We have the unique identifier for Prime's Matrix as a baseline," Prowl explained.

"Approved then," Prime nodded. "Reconfigure the sensors with Wheeljack's help. He will need the data to create a new casing. Jazz will be the lead contact. For now, let us resume our budget discussion."

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2 Needing sleep and safety

**Chapter 2 Ark Return**

The volcano partially hid the Ark's entrance, Mt. St Hilary's long shadows descending with the setting sun. The orange metal both a reminder of Cybertron and how alien earth was, the metal encased in rock and dirt. Solspark's radars detected new energy scanning mechanisms inside the entryway, making her wary. Transforming up, the silver blue Bugatti Veyron form unfolded into her. "Nothing else is changed. Odd, I didn't see anything on the day's listing for tech installs."

"What's cracking?" The cheerful pitch recognized instantly but startling.

"Jazz! Do not practice on me. I know you sneak around. Did something happen while I was out?" she gestured towards the new sensors, turning to mock glare. He was taller than her, heavier chest components and moved with a grace she sometimes envied. And totally undetected until he spoke.

"Nothing other than our ever-paranoid Red Alert wanting to spot Decepticon cassettes. Unless you are Rumble riding Ravage with Laserbeak on your shoulder, nothing to worry about," Jazz chided, resisting his own desire to deep scan. Nearly his height, her sleeker design lines indicating a femme and warrior with her armor plating. The long rifle down her back charged and spotlessly clean to his approval.

"Not an image I want to process. Though I would love to target Starscream and see his wings as a sun cover," she smiled, walking. Red Alert as Security Director had investigated her background upon arrival as standard procedure and cleared her. His paranoia kept in check by logic and common sense, nothing in her personnel file a trigger for investigation or concern. And the fact her communication position last outpost allowed her full access to it and any version forwarded never revealed to any bot. Certain medical file attachments were removed and lost to data corruption as were two location postings to the Council as a member of the Elite Guard without rank or explanation. A basic worker with a common file when viewed.

"Screamer is crazy and might bump off ole Megs for us yet," Jazz commented moving ahead of her, letting the invisible scans flow over his system before disappearing into shadow. Taking a deep vent, she stepped forward perceiving no effects before joining him walking down the corridor.

Inside Prowl's office, two sets of bright blue optics narrowed as they watched the remote readings intently. Their decision to verify the device without her direct involvement necessary for her protection and their reassurance. And to keep the agreement of the trade between her and Jazz.

"Matrix energy traces are within Solspark's frame, confirming her story," Prowl identified, locking the results with his personal encryptions. A typed command and the exterior devices resorted to scanning for recognized Decepticon indicators, no long hidden in their cassette form.

"Detectable but muted or we would never have known," Optimus realized, comparing it to his Matrix of Leadership scan. "Very similar indeed. Time to make my presence known to her, not as one Prime to another but a potential friend."

In the main corridor, sounds of laughing mixed with angry revving warned Jazz and Solspark to flatten against the nearest wall, the twins alt modes racing by as Ironhide raged behind, bright green and glowing in the shadows. Jazz snickered, saving the image while Solspark shook her head, never impressed with their antics.

"Not even sun down and the mischief makers crawl out of their dens," Jazz said, waving her to go through the recreation break room door first.

"It's empty for once, thank Primus. Grab a cube or two before I hit the wash rack," she vented happily, heading straight for the energon storage area.

Jazz smiled, knowing the entire corridor remained empty by design, most mechs having no idea why and not caring. Duties or orders keeping them to other parts of the ark ship. His optics took in her dusty parts, tired shuffle to her feet pads as he remembered her comment about never recharging sufficiently. A misalignment in her arm plate flagged across his systems, the repair weld failing to pull away.

"Need help?"

"With?" she challenged, raising an optic's arch.

"Repairs, not cleaning," he pointed at her temporary patch job on her arm.

"Slag. All the bumpy roads must have jarred it loose. The coupler on my arm blaster is blown and I had planned on repairing it this morning with the parts ready. Instead I got shifted last minute to patrol duty with it half disassembled. Easier to tack it down with weld glue than explain wiring is shot and controls are out. My long rifle can protect me if we are attacked. I can finish repairs tomorrow."

"Ratchet or any of his staff could," he began.

"No."

The firm statement left no room for discussion. The sudden stillness of her frame, blue optics narrowing caught instantly to his profiling routines. Sipping her energon she remained calm, no outward sign of her internal struggle that most would have missed. Yet she kept the char mark, as if daring the universe to ask. Jazz felt sympathy, knowing many a bot that hid emotions, rarely as undetectable as her control seemed to be. Undetected they didn't receive the help or support they sometimes didn't even realize they needed until too late. 'Not happening to her,' he processed, focusing on gaining her trust.

He shared the days stories, getting her to relax and unwind as he had many a fellow bot. "And that is how Bumblebee and Hound wound up on cleaning detail, sticking you with patrol duty all day. "

"Serves them right for risking themselves that way. A reconnaissance mission and they turn it into a parts raid," she chuckled before becoming rigid, looking past him.

Optimus stood in the doorway, his regal blue and red frame nearly filing the space. "Am I interrupting? Need a top off of energon." His regal baritone deliberately toned to reassure. Crossing one arm over the other, he half leaned on the doorway, softly chuckling. "And can either of you tell me why Ironhide just passed me in the hallway glowing in the dark?"

"Twins boss bot," Jazz answered, waving for him to join them. A glance confirmed Solspark showing no emotional response in her frame.

"That unfortunately explains many things around here, not all of them good," he answered. "Thank you Solspark for taking the patrol with little notice."

"It is an honor to serve my Prime," she answered neutrally, half bowing in the old ways.

Optimus smiled, half bowing his frame towards her in acknowledgment before striding over and grabbing up a handful of energon cubes. He didn't miss he way she backed towards Jazz, using him as buffer between them. Venting softly, he drank the energon, concentrating on his Matrix. Warm humming increased under his chest plate as it answered. And her optics widened, as though suddenly startled. "Gotcha,' he processed.

"Prowl to Optimus Prime," transmitted clearly in the silent room, his external helm speakers carrying the signal.

"Go ahead Prowl."

"Readings confirmed. And Wheeljack is requesting permission to design another Dinobot."

"Understood and request denied. Prime out," Optimus smiled down at the them, rolling his optics. "I use to build and design. While I applaud Wheeljack's enthusiasm we need more power convertors and updates to med bay scanners first."

"Before the war?" she asked, half smiling.

"I was an architect and an archivist. From filing records and researching to building the Grand Arch Span bridge at Iacon, the power docks there and surrounding areas. My existence before our war was one of peace and simpler things. Now I lead because it brings us closer to peace. This war will end, and I will take up a new life. Perhaps return to building bridges," he stated calmly.

"But you are a Prime."

"The Matrix is part of me but does not define my sole existence," he answered, recognizing her exact phrasing of a Prime and not Prime alone. Most Autobots and even Decepticons blended his title and life into one word as though a name but not her.

"Na, that would be reports, monitoring Teletran One and endless meetings," Jazz quipped.

"Speaking of meetings, I have one to attend," he stated regally, standing to full height, moving his arms to show off his wide chest plates and glass front enhancements. It had the desired effect on Solspark, her venting increasing even if slightly and a focusing of her systems his direction.

::Show off. Save your preening for Elita One:: Jazz sent, chucking his drained cube into the recycle bin, as Prime casualty tossed his across the distance, another chance to show off his physique.

"Good joor," he called, striding out.

Jazz pretended to not notice Solspark rubbing one armored hand across her chest plates absently. He did report it to the others in Prime's office later, Wheeljack attending. "Readings?"

"Power flare in yours then hers," Prowl confirmed.

"It is said that a Matrix carrier of Primus recognizes the one that will succeed them as Prime. The interactions I had with other Primes never revolved around our Matrixes, our identities and work clearly established. Otherwise there is no way to verify her current status," Optimus explained.

"Prime Axial must have recognized her at the end, passing it onward," Wheeljack guessed, rapidly sketching case designs on his data pad, calculating probable power limits.

"Or wanted it out of the Decepticon hands. Megatron's seekers were stealing relics and ancient devices as much as fighting then. Kept me busy collecting stuff to protect," Jazz reminded.

"Relics were not all they were stealing, and I believe Solspark left part of her tale out and I process I know why," Ratchet surprised them.

"Please continue," Optimus prompted.

"Medical combat support did not carry arm blasters or long rifles until late in the war. Their limbs were morphic tools like mine with two assigned combat troopers to cover and protect. I reviewed her medical records and found a left arm morphic connection sealed over. The damage under the seal was aged and an indicator of when it happened. And not her cover of becoming communications vorns later," his normal composed features went hard with pain.

"Starscream's triple glyph order," Prowl realized.

"Sweet Primus," Jazz swore.

"What? I don't understand,' Wheelajck asked, his bars flashing colors of confusion. The scientist had been a civilian much of the war and kept off the front lines, hearing only bits and pieces of the horrors.

"Medics were targeted midway in the war because of the sparks we saved. Starscream and his seekers would catch a medic, injuring them and disabling medical protocols before dumping them among the wounded, unable to help. The second time they were caught he took their limbs and branded them with a glyph and a warning."

"The third time?" Wheeljack asked, guessing but needing to hear.

"Slow torture in ways a medic would suffer the greatest before literally being torn apart. Solspark has no glyphs but her morphic limb was sheared off in a non-surgical manner, the rent metal under the cap. Whether in combat or catching I cannot say. She risked everything going into Irenic and leaving with the Matrix to continue as medical, young or not. Her training records indicate apprenticing under a Senior Medic named Cogwheel. Cogwheel helped discover our transformation process as a natural part of our existence. She was offlined as a third glyph example at Tyger Pax. As were several medics I knew," Ratchet continued.

"I ended that practice," Optimus rumbled, his normal regal baritone harsh. "For every medic lost we took a dozen seeker sparks and returned the wing tips to Megatron. He grew tired of the vengeance and losing them instead of fighting for his cause and discontinued the order."

"She made a wisecrack about Starscream, no fear there," Jazz remembered.

"Negative indicator of capture. Probable she witnessed or mourned a third glyph victim and changed her limb for a weapon with the occurrence of a subsequent injury. Not revenge but close-range firing with her hidden blaster should her long-range rifle fail. A way to protect without undue offlining and keeping with a medic's vows," Prowl reasoned.

"I swore to never carry a weapon either and that changed. It keeps me alive and that keeps all of you being repaired, the ultimate fulfillment of the life vows," Ratchet explained as if daring any of them to challenge.

"How does that help us with Solspark?" Wheeljack asked, letting Ratchet double check his designs.

"Her comments. They revolved around her feeling safe. Carrying weapons to defend herself. Not being able to recharge and wanting me to guard in the same room. That might be the key to reaching her," Jazz realized.

"I trust your judgment Jazz. For now, we will continue monitoring without confrontation. And as the time is past normal working hours, this meeting is adjourned. Good recharge," Optimus ordered, dismissing them.

Two nights later, the image of Prime relaxed and talking kept replaying as Solspark flipped onto her side. A check of the chronometer confirmed a late hour, her internal one disabled as power systems lagged. Siting up on her bunk, Solspark linked into Teletran One checking the work assignment schedule, delighted to see free time listed for the rest of the week. "Yes. Work on repairs," she cheered before sobering. Medical warnings flashed across her optics, citing low frag time. "Ever helpful. Tell me I need deeper recharge without how," she murmured, dismissing the warnings.

Solspark ran calculations estimating what was necessary to flip the alerts into the dangerous stage, instead of warning. "A little bit more energy spent here, more time there and I can medically override and dismiss before any auto reporting is logged in my systems," she realized, leaving her quarters on the fourth floor. Designed to carry over three hundred Autobots, the earth-based crew barely filled the fourth floor of the Ark, the scouts and special operations bots taking the fifth level, spacing out rooms to ensure privacy. Special teams like the Aerialbots or Dinobots had quarters in the mountain but not within the Ark main structure that had survived the crash landing. Following the earth's solar rotation, the late-night hour meant less chance of any bot encountering her as the Autobots kept the human pattern of nighttime recharging.

As Solspark descended the floor ramps her processes kept returning to the week's events, the revealing of her past and Prime appearing and talking of peaceful times. More had happened in those few hours than her entire two months on earth and yet she was no closer to answers on what to do next. The bright orange metal of the corridor barely echoed her steps, the doors closed on all the personal quarters as she turned down a side hallway. Reaching the hallway end, it took a second to realize she faced a stone wall, only the ventilation vent breaking its surface. Tired optics focusing on it, auto gauging the size.

"Lost or need a saboteur application?"

Half fritzing, Solspark's battle protocols activated sub spacing out her long rifle, its safety locks disengaging. A white armored mech stood tall behind her, smile on his lip plates beneath a familiar blue visor.

"Jazz! Would you stop doing that!" she growled, sliding the black rifle back to hiding in subspace.

"Day after I offline," he quipped moving closer. He approved of her quick reaction and weapon safeties disengaging, he loved being able to get in attack proximity range before announcing his presence. "Speaking of which, no offense but you look kind of slagged."

"Every femme wants to hear that. Recharge is elusive tonight. You?"

"Same. Walking the corridor to relax protocols. Special Ops means all hours and off schedule tomorrow. Time to rest then. Maybe attend the music festival next state over," Jazz covered, leaving off the alarm that triggered him to wake when her door opened during recharge times. Or his command link into all the Ark cameras to track her every step. The sensors on his wrist flared to life, flashing colors. "Pit."

"What?" She watched, recognizing a warning but the red and yellow colors meaningless.

"Twins. Probably another prank. Quick, we can hide in my doorway until they pass," he gestured back down the short hallway. Smirking, he moved silently but quickly, leaving her no choice except to follow. The warning lights on his wrist turning off at his command as they had turned on. Dragging steps she followed, trusting him. They passed four doors before reaching his room, the door automatically opening. Armored finger to his lips, he manually slid the door close once they were both inside. "They don't dare stop here after last time. I believe we are undetected."

Too tired to ask what happened the last time, Solspark tried to be polite and not stare at the sheer volume of items laying everywhere, piled on each other into stacks. Then he opened the door to his recharge area, a massively large bunk and murals on every wall and ceiling. Views as though standing on the launching tower at Iacon. Murals recreated in painstaking details. Cybertron. Home.

"Take a nap. I can stand guard for a bit," Jazz offered, recognizing her look. He stayed back, standing between her and the outer door without seeming to block the escape route.

"No, I can return to my room." Her attention never left the empty bunk or the mural behind it.

"Solspark, I give word on my spark you will be safe," he promised, one armored hand over his chest plates that she never turned to see. His reputation as dangerous a benefit and known to her with her earlier comment. He hesitated, wondering if his other reputation was affecting her desire to stay. 'Come on femme, make the right decision,' he processed. The mural his creation, a natural outlay of his skill in missions and having to recreate what he had seen in detail for reports. Captivated, Solspark faced it without moving, a good indicator. Reaching, he opened an energon cube and waited for her to give in.

"But you need recharge," she argued, half turning his way. His spark ached seeing the tired desperation flashing across her expressive features.

"Catch that later. Programming allows me to run without recharging. I have been trapped behind enemy lines or monitoring Cons right under their sparks, unable to move. Keep the energon up," he explained, handing her the cube.

Drinking it down, she never noticed the added content, enhancing the energon. Not high grade but close. A special mix for long running hard systems designed by Wheeljack and issued by Ratchet. Tapping the outer door, Jazz locked it tight, the energy patterns flaring across its surface for her to see.

"I owe you," Solspark promised, flopping down. In less than half a breem she dropped into deep recharge, her ragged system settling into a steady pattern.

"Not my first time recharging upright," Jazz's trademark visor snapped up revealing blazing blue optics. Deeper blue than a night sky without stars and resplendent with pure power, his cores coruscating to match Prime's at his brightest. The temptation to turn them red or purple fleeted past before being ruthlessly discarded. A promise made, a promise kept in truth as she kept her part of the trade. She would be allowed to see him unguarded and fundamental, one of the few who would live past the revelation. But not yet.

Silently he transmitted messages to his three conspirators, intending it to be read in the morning. Solspark recharging in his room and his routines engaged so he could recharge some of the same time. Unsurprisingly both Prowl and Optimus answered back, confirming their acceptance of the information and a promise to keep his end of the branching hallway clear. No accidental contact to disturb them. Ratchet an auto message reminding that mechs needed to recharge, not stay up on messaging.

Another message sent to his special ops team, not to be disturbed for anything short of a full Decepticon attack and to confirm entry was granted before opening his door, no exceptions. Echoes flowed back of recharging, patrolling, one in med bay but all accepting his desire for privacy without question.

Jazz set a subroutine alert for the slightest shift or movement by her and he would snap awake. Full protection mode auto engaged before he consciously realized it if the outer door opened. And his optics closed as he relaxed, the visor engaging to damp down their sheer power. The recharge door left open between Jazz and Solspark in the resulting darkness.

Hidden under her armor the Matrix flared, pulling her excess energy to burn a little brighter.

_To be continued…_

_Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and to my loyal readers. You make it worth it. There will be more action, training and revelations onward. Not all will be their romance or the Matrix. And no, she was not a glyph order caught though she did lose her morphic arm. Story in a later chapter. I researched the Matrix and Primes, the Ark ship layout on tf wiki and half a dozen other canon TF research sites, books, G1 cartoon, movies and comics. Until all are one. _


	3. Chapter 3 Rocks and Med Bay

**Chapter 3 – Rocks and Med Bay**

::Is Solspark still deep recharging or are you stalling? How much split maxed energon has she processed? Any system reactions to the mix? And the latest defrag update was overdue half a cycle ago:: Ratchet's irritation sounding across Jazz's comm line was his wakeup call, the Priority medical flag encryption overriding his command officer's privacy settings.

::Good morning to you too sunshine:: Jazz quipped back, his systems instantly ready for combat or escape. He confirmed the outer door remained undisturbed and the recharge door stayed ajar, Solspark recharging inside before he rose off the floor concealing weapons. The location of his room being down on the fifth floor and near the end of the hallway factored any disturbance unlikely but not impossible and better to be prepared than surprised and endangered.

::The first solar cycle was fixing the twin's pedes from a prank gone wrong followed by a variety of parts repairs on mechs who should be smarter than the tools they are using before injuring themselves in creative mishaps. It is now late solar cycle of day two of Solspark monitoring:: Ratchet corrected.

::Ain't you the one always telling me healing takes time? Not to rush things?:: Jazz reminded, easing back heightened alerts to normal working status. The sole focus of his data uploads, Solspark lay flat on her back with one arm curling over her helm and the other arm draped across her chest plates protectively.

::When you are in med bay from a mission and slagged to parts, yes. Repairs and resets take time. I always processed you never listened, racing back out on missions for more target practice by the 'Cons:: Ratchet admitted.

::Sending her latest scans now. The poor femme was not kidding about never deep recharging:: Jazz noted. Medical codes scrolled by before being transmitted, the defrag listing only at half operational status.

::I should brig her for sustaining dangerous levels. Medically she knows better than to override protective levels and block system reports. That behavior is practically an abuse of her medical training:: Ratchet grumbled; his mental tone clear.

::And you never have delayed recharge?:: Jazz challenged, sliding a pile of human music CD's over to sit an energon cube down.

::You crash, I dash. You fall, I get the comm call. No recharge for the ones who saves your afts:: Ratchet

::Been around humans too long Doc:: Jazz reached out, catching the tilting pile before the CD's scattered everywhere.

::I am not Doc but your Chief Medical Officer. And if you would quit taking hits I would not have fits!:: Ratchet snapped.

::Her energon consumption is unusually high for continually recharging:: Prowl noted, joining the comm signal without announcement and effectively breaking up their argument.

::Worried we are getting it on? Not happening. Solspark is deep recharging but I noticed the brighter Matrix aura on scans. She said sometimes it pulls on her, but I ain't intruding to peek beneath spark armor, and I am not waking her to ask:: Jazz clarified, stepping over a set of mural paints piled alongside remote camera install bases to remove another energon cube from his storage cabinet. With one hand he pushed the coils of cabling back onto the shelf before removing the cube and pressing the doors back closed.

::My Matrix never has. I still find her reveal disturbing:: Optimus Prime admitted, his regal tone overlaying the comm line as he joined the conversation.

::That she kept it hidden?:: Prowl

::That she used the term broken to describe herself and the Matrix:: Optimus Prime

:: I caught that too:: Jazz agreed, closing the line as the last report transmitted. A faint warning flared through his logic systems, that he was becoming attached to her. Personal attachments a danger in a profession where any bot could become his target. His concentration remained on her, knowing her frame down to the protoform after two earth days of her waking out of deep recharge each time to find him nearby guarding. Solspark took each enhanced energon he offered, drinking it down without scanning, trusting him. He watched each time she stretched out to fall back into recharge, not knowing how many were concerned about her. Jazz felt a twinge of remorse for using his sophisticated overlays with Ratchet's medical codes to keep her from full processing, not knowing the day or time. "Ah well. I needed recharge too in between medical scans and door checks. Confess later if she asks."

Fully online, he processed team reports and relayed information on her, unwilling to leave the room. Few mechs inspired the loyalty he felt now coursing through his systems. Optimus, the mech more than the Prime, who had welcomed him onto his personal command team knowing Jazz's true past and deadly skill sets. Prowl who never questioned his commitment to the Autobot cause, becoming a battle buddy and close friend. His own special operations group including Mirage, Bluestreak, Skids and others but not beyond that. The Ark Autobots teammates on earth but anytime an order to follow or track their behavior could be relayed, with consequences for what he would find. Their actions mere pranks and bending rules to report back but if a betrayal was discovered for whatever reason, an accident or unseen fall in battle at his hand to remove them. "Times long past since any activity required those skills," he pondered. And now her secrets, not merely tradeable but valued to know all the pain and darkness Solspark kept hidden. And to help her any way he could.

The next evening she returned to her quarters feeling refreshed and relaxed as Jazz beamed, mission successful. The same night his quarters seemed smaller, less comforting as he recharged alone on the massively large bunk. He updated the mural wall with a small blue silver shape on a loading ramp, not far from his image. The first night alarm of her restlessness occurred days later and had him practically running to meet her. Talking long into the morning, they shared energon in the break room with Solspark laughing and giving him a fuller reveal of her personality.

Optimus continued to appear at random times, relaxed and talking with them of common things. Prowl approved of the activity as both Second in Command and a friend. He knew the heavy price Optimus paid as Prime and any down time, even if brief, was welcomed. Ratchet complained often, wanting to check and double check Solspark personally with tests but restrained after his first initial confrontation nearly frightened her off. He started accompanying Optimus, appearing relaxed and off duty as she had to learn he meant no harm. Elita and the various femmes spent time with Solspark, confirming her lower degree of combat skills and gentler personality not fitting in with their specialized team. They did reassure that they would always be there for a fellow femme if she needed them, even if just an open audio to listen. Other mechs noticed the heightened activity, unsure of why the sudden interest in her by command but no bot asked, dismissing her as only a general fighter. Until the solar cycle Solspark traded into a relief patrol with a research project attached.

Plinking sounds of small rocks clinking, and scattering had Solspark turning, her silver blue armor distinct against the craggy gold of the stone face. High above her the cliff formed the last trailing edge of the ancient volcano, opposite from the side of the Ark's crashed landing. Here, the talus slope of various rocks sliding down the mountain to the meadow's edge remained undisturbed. The mid-day sun sparkled on the minerals layered in the rolling small stones landing almost at her feet pads as she considered Hound, Bluestreak and Trailbreaker holding a handful of small boulders. "Why are you throwing rocks at a rock hill? Our instructions are geological data driven what is in the rocks, not where."

"Data driven? How long has the Ark been here? We knew from the first cycle these rocks were frizzing our gear," Hound answered.

"Now Wheeljack wants to weaponize them or whatever," Trailbreaker added, using both hands to throw his boulder high in the air to roll down the rocky slope.

"Our instructions are to track readings where they interfere heavily with our signals," Solspark repeated.

"And they are tracked gentle femme," the words whispered out of the clear air, though she never moved. Mirage shimmered into existence, raising a regal optical arch at the lack of reaction. The tall mech vented softly before walking towards the equipment Wheeljack had given them.

"Our cue to go. Report readings every joor. We loaded the topographical scans, just add your data," Hound stated, transforming down into jeep mode and freewheeling the general direction of the road circling around the volcano. Mirage transformed, following slower for avoiding dust and rock chips on his F-1 Ligier JS11 racer alt mode.

"My relief is late, as usual," Trailbreaker noted, his heavier green armored shape turning towards the South.

"Let me calculate, Cliffjumper?" Solspark asked.

"Sunstreaker actually," he answered, again throwing a boulder high onto the slope, watching it roll down creating a small rockslide. "See that massive slab tilting near the higher crest?" More rocks, boulder size in his larger armored hands crashed below it, bringing more rubble sliding down. "Almost got it."

"Your targeting needs realigning?" She guessed, sending a comm message to Bluestreak to trade out with her arrival. An error message popped up:

_Signal interference detected. Unknown origin._

_Unable to extend range. _

_Recommend signal boosting._

Grimacing at the obvious interference that they were to track, she waved at Bluestreak to trade out gesturing battle codes with her hands.

"Nope. If enough of the smaller rocks shift, it will tip over the shelf. Bring the whole slide down for quite the show and maybe cross into the meadow. Should just about have it," Trailbreaker replied, throwing another boulder high.

"I need relief," she vented, turning away. Her scanners detected an intermittent Cybertronian signal closing at rapid speed before approving Sunstreaker as a friendly; his brilliant yellow paint shine and deep engine revving validating his arrival. Diligently, she recorded energy bounces off the rocks scattered about, unable to get an accurate image of them thermally.

"Sunstreaker, No!" The emotion in the shout, the deep warning tone had her spinning around in time to witness it. Solspark felt her spark go still as Sunstreaker's weapon blast smashed halfway up the cliff face, the blue white energy sinking into the mountain face and disappearing. No bot moved, waiting as birds took flight with a breeze rustling across the meadow before it started. The echoes of the first crack clearly heard before black lines began appearing in the golden rock as fissure lines spread to the right of the blast, fracturing out. Then another fissure line spreading and another, cracks flowing all directions even to up under the balancing slab. The sound building with crack upon rupture as the entire golden rockface started crumbling.

"Oh scrap," she swore, starting to panic. Trailbreaker and Sunstreaker bolted as she ran back towards Bluestreak and the gear. "Move!" she barked, seeing him immobile. "Move!" Rock chunks began falling like rain nearby, the other mechs fleeing ahead of them into the meadow. 'Come on mech, move!' Sprinting, not even processing fully she tackled him, a chunk the size of a Dinobot pitting the space where he had been standing. Rolling forward, Solspark and Bluestreak separated and ran with weapons fire blasting the falling stone masses on either side, the weapon's noise lost under impacts of slamming rocks. The shimmering green arch overhead provided a narrow way of escape as Trailbreaker's shield covered as they tried to outrun the earthen tsunami. Alt mode transforms were impossible with uneven ground, too many crashing boulders to evade. Then the rumble became a crescendo roar with the sunlight blinking out as the ground heaved around them. 'Never going to make it,' she realized, grabbing for Bluestreak before everything stopped.

_"Solspark…static…. answer…spark…..can…receive…" _

Rough static brought her back to groggy awareness, unsure of what or where she was. As Solspark's optics opened, scrolling medical reports went by rapidly with most dangerously red or unable to update, her right arm non-operational. Groaning, her pain flared when trying to move or shift. "I need light. Headlights are out, thermal vision is down." An astro second of panic welled up in her, the familiar nightmare of darkness and pain. Then soft blue light spread like the rising of the sun, outlining her and Bluestreak lying against each other while trapped under rocks. "The Matrix," she vented, feeling its warmth as pains eased. "Blue? Can you hear me? Bluestreak! Answer me bot!" Solspark reached her hand out, unable to discern if his shell had grayed out. Errors flashed up, warning that her vents were clogged with pollutants as venting increased with her fear. Relays in her fingers pulsed the astro second she touched his armor connection. "Online, thank Primus." His optics opened at her touch, faint and barely reacting but trying to focus on her so close.

_"Blues…static…. hear….. we…"_

'The rocks,' she realized 'they are interfering still.' Rotating her head to the side, Solspark grimaced seeing nothing but entrapment. Craning her helm up, two massive slabs had collided above them, providing a space for them to survive. Her legs were pinned, folded tight but functional; Bluestreak's appeared crushed from the knee plates down, his legs outstretched as he fell. 'We need help. I don't know if my signal can break through all this.' Then the pulsating hum in her chest increased, boosting her strength.

_::We are operational. Damaged and trapped. Need rescue and evac:_: Solspark sent, wide signal.

Outside in the meadow and on the debris pile, nearly half the mechs cheered or paused their rescue work. Jazz's visor flared with pure energy with Prowl's wing doors sagging in relief as the signal washed over them standing together. "Ah told ya they were online."

"Bluestreak will be uncontrollable," Prowl's doors sagged briefly, the enforcer rubbing at his optics to hide his expression of pain. "Ever since Praxus."

"I know mech. I know," Jazz comforted, his own internal fear hid of her lost when no answer came to any of their rescue calls. The earthen mound towering above them seemed as if half the mountainside had collapsed. A second fear of Bluestreak losing his processing cores, unable to be locked down without experiencing flashbacks to the destruction of his family home, trapped under its burning rubble as a youngling.

"How is the signal getting through? Scans are fleeting at best," Wheeljack speculated, fidgeting with a relay booster.

"Femme works communications," Jazz explained smoothly, sharing a look with Optimus. The ancient Prime glanced down as though listening before blinking his optics twice to signal that yes, his Matrix was active and keying off hers.

"Found them, possibly."

"How possibly 'Jack?"

"As possible with unreliable readings. They are buried but reachable, four point five to the right. Have to dig them out manually, this pile is too unstable for explosives or our heavy chippers."

Nightfall had the rescuers freeing them, the portable lights illuminating the area to daylight levels. Ratchet and First Aid moved in before pulling a limp frame and dust covered Bluestreak out of the dug rescue shaft, his legs smashed into stubs. "About time, I was beginning to process you had forgotten us. Not in long term but in short term forgotten. My foot pad is broken maybe. Or on backwards. Feels funny not glitchy funny but odd offline?" And he continued rambling normally before Ratchet's injection put him into forced recharge.

"Get him on the medical lift. Aid, triage him. Hoist help with the energon seals. Jazz, Hound with me."

Solspark was next. Jazz thought she never looked more beautiful even as energy spent, and dust covered being pulled up and out. Even dusty, he could see her war armor was dinged in places and her right arm bent in three places.

"Spark chamber intact but her energy levels are falling dangerously low. Gently," Ratchet ordered, multiple hands shifting her onto the portable medical float.

::As we discussed:: Prime sent, using his arm to move the other standing mechs back towards his waiting trailer. "Let Ratchet work. Clear the road and load Bluestreak. I roll when she loads."

"My sweet spark," Jazz said, moving in from the other side of the lift. Solspark focused on him, her working hand grasping at him desperately. He leaned in close touching helms to get the tightest signal::_ Don't panic. We got ya. Hound can hide us in a hologram. I'll take the matrix; your secret is safe. I will be right there with you in med bay, I promise::_

Externally, jaws fell open as Jazz rubbed his helm across hers, an intimate movement in its slowness. He leaned across her chest plates, aligning himself over her spark armor. Soft murmurs and vibration sounds floated past, hidden under the distant revving of Prime's transformation and hooking up his trailer. Hound leaned over, appearing to touch Jazz as though comforting while blocking the view as the hologram seamlessly shifted into place. Clearing a minute later, Jazz nodded as Ratchet began guiding the floating carrier into Prime's trailer.

"Anything we should know Jazz?" Bumblebee quizzed, asking the question many wondered.

"Reassuring her bug bot. Femme has skills and Ops always has positions open. Ratchet wants her for medical expertise. And Blaster for her transmission training. Why not our group?" Jazz vented deeply, his visor tracking Prime's path all the way, his arms crossed.

"Right, new special operations candidate."

Waiting in the hallway outside Med Bay, the Autobots conversed quietly among themselves, pausing to hear as the doors moved. First Aid stepped out between the sliding doors to focus on Jazz, motioning for him to follow. "She needs you, now." The doors closed behind them; intense speculation created among the bots.

"Communications skills my aft," Ironhide grumbled. "Our Third in Command has found himself a partner."

"Jazz? Ha! He takes no femme or mech long term. Friendship level only and that is guarded."

"Then why is he inside with the wounded and medics? Even Prime is locked out right now. Saw him heading to his office with Prowl. And Sideswipe here is waiting to see his twin."

'Bluestreak is special operations same as Jazz and her, or she will be," Bumblebee offered, reasoning.

"Special all right," Sideswipe pondered, wondering how the twins who knew almost everything had missed what appeared to be a serious relationship.

"Any of you ever got helm caresses, soft words to join blowing things up and stealing data?" Huffer asked. The small orange and blue armored mech challenged, his big question unanswered.

Inside the Med Bay he touched helms with her. ::_Hear me Solspark. You are safe, rest. You are not alone. I am here as promised. Safe:_: Jazz. The words filtered into damaged relays, calming her fight with medical induced stasis. Medical sensors beeped on the attachment equipment, reflecting improving changes as recharge took over.

"How is Bluestreak?" he asked, staying by her side.

"Surprisingly functional. His personality download shows no signs of new damage. Energon loss was contained between the smashing and self-repair on his legs, risky but containable," Ratchet pointed at the mech reclined on the other medical berth, the sheared stubs covered in a medical drape.

"A bearer of peace can calm the most troubled soul," Prime commented, watching from the far wall.

"And drain Solspark down like a sharkticon siphoning fuel. Spent joors getting her to reset to be undone in one event," Ratchet noted, checking on the wide open energon line into her hip plate.

"Used the secret passageway didn't ya big bot?" Jazz quipped, nodding towards the nearer wall.

"You know?" Prowl sputtered.

"Best spy you got. Prime in med bay causes panic yet he gets repairs all the time and it did not take me long to figure it out. The Ark has all types of passages post-crash and I have used a few myself to mask activities," Jazz admitted.

"And the device?"

"Left in Wheeljack's capable hands. He is feeding it pure power from the central core while he is finishing the new containment case. Like Ratch said, sucking energy like a starving Sharkticon," Jazz advised, smoothing the medical drape over her damaged arm and silently approving of calling her Matrix a device publicly where others might hear.

"The wounded are stable. Sunstreaker will be transferred to the brig following his on lining. His damage limited to an overheated power coil trying to blast them clear. Time is what my patients need, and I will let you know if anything changes. The rest of you are dismissed," Ratchet ordered.

"No."

"Jazz, that includes you and," the medical assistant motioned before stopping as Jazz rebelled, a command presence in his movements with something more. As a medic First Aid had never seen his field work but his warning systems recognized an impending threat.

"No."

"My orders stand, and I outrank you in this room," Ratchet reminded, gesturing for his medical assistant to step back and let him handle the situation as Chief Medical Officer.

"No. I am not abandoning her. When she on lines I will be the first mech she sees and senses," Jazz stated while crossing his arms and bracing his stance wider, rebuffing the taller mech.

"I will call you right before," Ratchet began again, ready to be as obstinate as a silver wrench dropped into his hand.

"No. I made a promise to stay by her side."

"Solspark won't know you are here," Ratchet shifted the wrench to throw before stopping as the other spun his arm shield into place. The metal circle a defiance and a defense.

"I will know. Med bay is torture for her. I stay," Jazz reiterated, remote snapping up his visor to remind them of hidden strength as his blue optics darkened.

"Would you like to stay in the brig?" Prowl offered, calculating the odds of how dangerous his friend could become if pushed any further. Med bay protocols locked all weapons as standard procedure, but nothing was standard about the mech challenging them, the blaster in the center of his arm shield proof.

"I will bust out. Return here. Save time letting me have my way."

"Jazz stays. Keep us advised," Prime commanded, ending the argument by entering the secret passage with Prowl following.

Reaching Prime's office, the mechs stepped out with the hidden door resealing behind them. "Recommendations Prowl."

"Sunstreaker needs a reminder about weapons rules and precautions followed by extended cleaning punishment tasks. Bluestreak will be field operational pending medical release with monitoring to ensure no long-term processing effects."

"I meant Jazz." Optimus clarified, needing answers.

"His actions indicate a strong attachment to her," Prowl noted, no longer avoiding the subject.

"How strong?"

"If you are concerned it will affect his judgement as Third in Command, I do not believe that is the case. If Solspark is offlined or was heavily damaged in battle, he could lose control. But for all his posturing he was not a threat, or we would not be having this discussion."

"You would be locking him in the brig?"

"Yes."

"Relax old friend. I have done worse threatening over less value than a spark mate," Optimus comforted, sitting at his desk. The pile of data pads and work never ending needing his attention, ignored for the day's rescue operations and now a requirement.

"Jazz and she are not spark mates, not yet."

"Do you doubt they will be?" Optimus assumed it would happen, his relationship with Elita One solid the first time they had shared energon on a break from unloading fuel barges. He saw the same indicators in Solspark and Jazz as they talked over energon in the break room after her reveal. And any relationship a sign of hope and peace in a never-ending war as far as his processes were concerned.

"I am uncertain. There are too many variables still in play, all surrounding her," Prowl admitted, uncharacteristically leaning against the wall. Any event concerning Jazz's emotions were always a processor drain and the potential for disaster or hurt to his friend statistically high with a femme involved, which would affect Prowl.

"Jealous?"

"Protective but not of a rival. Jazz has never suffered from that negative emotion. He prefers direct action."

"I meant you," Optimus teased, pointing a squared finger at his Second in Command.

"I will not dignify that with a response," Prowl straightened, trying to appear stern.

"You just did," he teased. Optimus knew the enforcer and spy had a close friendship but nothing more. Any more than he and Ultra Magnus were like spark brothers and Commanders yet rumors swirled implying everything from blackmail to a hidden secret shared as their reason for their close relationship.

"You need to authorize emergency protocols to Ratchet for a full system shutdown." Prowl stated calmly.

"But you said?"

"Jazz is no threat unless she off lines. Ratchet needs to understand the potential threat for future medical incidents and currently as a reassurance to his working demeanor."

"To his ego you mean," Optimus chuckled. "Next time I want to refuse medical treatment, could I pull my rifle and defy him?"

"Not recommended. And Jazz will not like his next physical exam nor any repairs after this."

"Point taken. Keep me updated on the situation and I may be able to get inside information on her status through Elita."

"Understood, I am retiring to my quarters. Good lunar cycle sir."

::Jazz, I must clarify one detail:: Prowl sent, his actions ready to conflict with his personal wishes as he headed for the third floor. As a precaution, all Command level officers had personal quarters on separate floors, least a single attack or disaster affect them simultaneously. Optimus and Ratchet resided on the first-floor command deck with Jazz preferring to be close to his Ops team. The few mechs moving in the hallways were intent on their tasks, acknowledging the SIC without interrupting his walk.

::Only one?:: Jazz

::Was the blaster on your shield operational?:: Prowl stopped, actions hinging on the answer.

::No. Protocols had it locked tight. Did it look good though? Trying for a bluffing award:: Jazz quipped back. He did not mention his own protocols had it locked, a safety around Solspark lest she become hit by friendly fire. A few feet further away from her and the blue charge would have given away it was functional. Another secret for him to keep.

::Understood. And as a suggestion, do not get injured:: Prowl warned.

::Wasn't planning to. Why?:: Jazz's puzzlement clear in his question.

::Ratchet will treat Solspark with utmost care to try and reassure her fears. He will not be restrained with you after defying him openly in his own realm:: Prowl

::Pit. Have her do my repairs then:: Jazz realized.

::That is not the answer:: Prowl hinted.

::It is if the question is how I avoid med bay for a while. Night Prowlie:: Jazz ended the conversation, focusing entirely on her. Unable to set protection coding in an active room with other patients, he realized it was going to be a long night. Then Ratchet left to recharge in the side room, promising to remote monitor and return instantly if any patient status changed. When the hidden passage unsealed, Jazz's hand-held blaster disappeared into subspace upon a familiar energy signature.

"I apologize for the late cycle, but I needed to reassure myself of your working status," Prowl greeted, his wing doors relaxed and his steps light.

"Fancy way of saying hi buddy," Jazz kept his tone casual, their long friendship a detriment in discerning any hidden motives as he turned to face him. The other's explanation sounded right but were his motives wrong? Had Jazz run a self-diagnostic his protection codes of behavior would have been flagged for over looping, only Solspark and Prowl categorized as safe and one conditional upon the other.

"I was unsure of who else might be in attendance and it is an officially sounding reason. How are you?" He approached slowly, observing his friend with centuries of familiarity.

"Not liking being stuck in here overnight."

"When you cannot stand in the light I will sit with you in the dark," Prowl quoted, meaning it but also a gauge of the others processor set.

"Nah, I'm good. Keeping my promise," Jazz reassured, Prowl's threat level dropped to zero, his friend reclassified back to treasured and protected. "Any suggestions to pass the time? Puzzles? Rearranging Doc's office upside down? Lay out a few sharp instruments as door traps?"

"I can suspend med bay protocols for you. I have the double override should Ratchet need restraint."

"Prowl, you are too much. But no. Rules exist to keep us safe. I will leave that in your trusty servos."

The white armored enforcer reached out to grip the other's arm tightly, his blue optics intense. "You already overrode them didn't you? I know with that answer. Use force if mandated with extreme caution only for her or me. Do you understand? This order is locked and non-negotiable and will be recorded in my files for Prime's review."

"Why involve you? Better to let me spin my wheels alone if the road dips," Jazz made no effort to pull back, both mechs equal in hand to hand combat.

"A plausible response if challenged in the future. I needed a secondary fallback to know the codes and you exercised your best judgement in an extreme circumstance," Prowl explained, stepping back and letting go.

Jazz nodded, accepting the warning and implicit threat completely. And the reassurance Prowl would risk his professional standing as a sign of trust in his decision-making ability by letting him keep the overrides.

"Who else has them? Optimus?"

"No. Ultra Magnus is Prime's backup should he crash, and Ratchet is unavailable. Installed after the Fourth Battle of Tyger Pax."

"Any other backups I should know about?"

"Not should, I expect you to find them as our Operations Command," he said, calculating the situation stable. No other words were needed as Prowl left to return to his quarters through the passageway. Med bay entered night mode, the overhead lights dimming with the darkness interrupted by sparkles of monitoring instrument flashes. And the soft blue shine of a dampening visor focused on one femme.

_To be continued…_

_Author's Notes: Jazz and Prowl have an extensive shared history on Cybertron during the war as a team before taking their respective command posts. They know what each other can do and will or will not do. They are truly spark brothers, bonded through combat and adversity to the best of friends and always will be. Until all are one._

_ Updated 05.18.2020_


	4. Chapter 4 Laserbeak and Lessons start

::Can you explain the reasoning behind Jazz staying in med bay? Other than him being stubborn? And why Prime authorized complete system shutdown if he turns violent? Prime never authorized that on Ironhide when Chromia nearly crashed. And they are full spark mates:: Ratchet disputed over the medical comm line, closing out the day's reports. Only Bluestreak remained under his medical care, needing wiring to his new leg stubs with Solspark early release conditional on charging enough to risk returning the Matrix to her. Ratchet wanted to keep her another half orn but professionally knew her stress level would never allow it. And putting up with Jazz invading his work area for that long would aggravate him to no end.

::His word choice. Abandon:: Prowl relayed, glad the medic could not see his expression as the former enforcer reviewed case files. A mix of pride and sorrow over the accomplishments he and Jazz had achieved, many classified for good reason from the rest of the crew.

::And?:: Ratchet prodded, still not correlating why he got special treatment.

::Last recorded use was his team storming the Decepticon base on Alpha Nine Six. Jazz refused to abandon Mirage, disobeying a direct order to rescue him while destroying the base and offlining nine warrior class Decepticons:: Prowl stated.

::That still does not explain:: Ratchet began snarking.

::Team of two. Jazz and myself. I freed Mirage and evacuated. He took the rest out:: Prowl

::Are you trying to tell me that by himself?:: Ratchet sputtered, hard to reconcile the image of the jovial white armored mech with the image presented. Stubborn yes but that deadly?

::Yes. Do not underestimate him. You have never seen what he is truly capable of. Prime and I have:: Prowl.

Across med bay, Jazz grinned. His position as head of the Special Operations unit meant inside information, including restricted channel codes for medical and the highest command ranks. Officially he was not authorized to have them or the command clearance to hear certain items while listening in. If Prowl suspected, he had never mentioned it directly and that meant Prime and Ironhide had no idea. The rescue mission on Alpha Nine Six one Jazz wanted to forget. Not often he lost control but when he did, his enemies paid the price with their sparks. And only Prowl would have correlated both times with the word abandon.

A warning flashed across his visor, another attempt to infiltrate med bay records, specifically his and Solspark. 'Using what I taught you, but not good enough Skids.' Cyber codes wrapped around the firewall, diverting the attempt into lectures on human superstitions and odd beliefs. 'Liking your enthusiasm to find out details, but I'm the boss for a reason,' he chuckled. 'Four attempts by Skids, three by Mirage, seven by Bumblebee and a grand total of thirty-two by other mechs. Never knew I was so popular.'

The sounds of hard venting and rustling metal had him moving instantly, touching helms and grabbing her working arm.:: I am here. You are safe. Rest. I am here Solspark. You are not alone. Safe. I am holding you. Know me:: Jazz sent, laying his frame gently across hers to reassure, not pin her down.

::Jazz!:: Solspark

His spark fluttering with hearing the desperation, feeling her reaching for him like a drowning bot. No other mech or femme had ever said his name that way, wrapping it in pure need.

::Where? I can't see!:: Solspark fought her own systems, trying to focus.

:: You were injured. I am here. Rest. You are safe:: Jazz sent, holding her as medical overlays took her back into deep recharge. The decision to offline her optics, preventing her recognition of med bay until repair systems stabilized had been his idea. Not a deception but protection though her panicking every time made it hard for him to feel it was the right decision. A glance up and Ratchet nodded, pulling the coding injector out of her other arm, repaired except for attaching the outer armor. A deep scan confirmed her face plates had never suffered a branding glyph and her personality profile while damaged and incomplete, cleared of trauma for the orns medics were targeted and disabled.

"Not a victim of Starscream and his seekers at least," Ratchet had approved.

"Just those who should have protected her the most on our side," Jazz's answer. Returning to his waiting, processes ran of how best to start training her, officially adding her to the Operations team and under his command the first night. "How soon until she is released?"

"Same answer as last time. When her power level stays above ninety five percent. I should keep her past that but her needs also factor into recovery time," Ratchet stated. "Why? Afraid you will become Jazzimus Prime?"

"Funny Doc." He tapped his striped chest plates. "Bright and shiny and sitting all quiet, must not find me that interesting."

"Unlike your team who keeps trying to hack my medical records."

"Seriously? Must speak to them about that. Doing their job to find out information and all," the spy quipped back.

"Apply that much enthusiasm to completing her care or I will find out and grab you both back here, with one of you being welded to the ceiling. That does meet the definition of being allowed to stay and stay out of my way," Ratchet threatened.

"Got it in one."

Two days later Jazz sent the final medical packet to Ratchet, Solspark recharging quietly in his room and the Matrix settled inside its new containment chamber, incandescent and no longer drawing on her spark. The attempt to keep in her quarters a bust with her restless and uneasy the first joor. The traffic on the fourth floor outside her room heavy as most of the other Autobots had rooms there and agitated him guarding. He had conferred with Ratchet, intending to move her to his room without making a scene later that night. The fact his Ops team arrived with a medical carrier, unofficially borrowed and the hallway cleared for the room shift appreciated but not requested. "Monitoring me?"

"Welcoming our newest member," Mirage explained.

Jazz letting the excuse slide, filing a reminder to create a better sounding official reason later. Not many would accept it, knowing her injuries in the rockfall should have kept her locked in med bay. Sunstreaker safe in the brig though if he or any under his command had really wanted to, banished from his processing. She mattered. Watching Solspark recharge on his bunk, he began redesigning his room. The wide bunk needing to be two for them to both rest. Her possessions few and accommodated across one of his counter spaces, once he cleared enough to find its surface. Soon she would online, full restore and be cleared for duty and a full-time part of his life. Her secrets now greater than his and he had a feeling his newest recruit would not object to remaining close, despite the challenges of him being command over her. If not, and he was wrong she could bunk where she wanted including her old room, her strength proven. Solspark saving Bluestreak, part of his unit and the only other survivor from Praxus besides Prowl a courageous act. 'More a Prime than she knows.'

Inside Optimus' office the heated discussion between spark mates continued.

"Elita, I am not asking that," Optimus stated, both hands flat on his desktop. His battle mask engaged, the only sign of his frustration.

"Not in so many words," the rose-colored femme held up a hand. His mate for centuries, not even him screaming holding a weapon would cause her to back down from what she felt was right. "Asking Solspark how committed she is to Jazz is a violation of their privacy. I would not ask that of any femme as a commander or a friend. Their personal relationships are personal unless it endangers all of us. If anything she falls under your sphere of influence because of him."

"Jazz is my Third In Command. I rely on him as much as Prowl or Ironhide. Trust that requires certain acceptances and knowledge," Optimus acknowledged.

"I know his background. Raised at the Allspark Temple for the good of all Cybertron. Never thought they would use spying and sneaking around to keep our world safe. Imagine," she stopped pacing, facing her mate. "Being able to feel the Allspark, communicating directly with the Victor Sigma power source and trained in the deadliest of attacks."

Optimus vented, hanging his head with his battle mask unclicking and retracting. "He served faithfully once the war began. Spying and doing terrible ops missions in areas only Jazz could infiltrate. Stealing, removing threats and never losing his hope or wild personality. No femme or mech could match what he is or has experienced. I do not want to add to his suffering with her past."

"We have all suffered in this war. You, me and them. Is letting them keep secrets wrong? When and if Solspark declares herself a Prime publicly then we can consider action. Jazz responds well to change and improvisation and it's about time he found some bot other than Prowl to rely on. Not to sound like Ratchet but let healing happen over time and see where this road leads."

Inside his quarters down on the fifth floor, Jazz leaned next to her, half bracing on the floor and half on the berth edge. "Deserve? Did you just ask me what you did to deserve my care?" He chuckled, tracing glyphs across the top sheet with a square finger.

"I meant that in a good way," Solspark teased, trying to be serious as she reclined with her feet dangling over the berth edge like a youngling. Her frame and spark felt whole and fully charged, onlining in his room a welcome surprise.

"May you get what you deserve is the human's way of cursing," he explained.

"I was referring to the fact I am in your private quarters, injured and you have never left my side. More than," she continued before bowing her head in embarrassment, then smiling as his hand raised her helm to look directly into her optics.

"Never process you are not deserving of more. And I have an open position to fill. Any chance you know where I can find a femme devious, good at trading info and able to hide advanced skill sets?" He shifted to stand up straight, pretending to contemplate her.

"No idea but if I see any bot like that I will send her your way, maybe." Her expression changed for an instant, slight frown, burrowing of her optics arches and narrowing of optics.

Jazz smirked, recognizing the subtle signs of jealousy. "No femmes allowed to stay in here except you sweet spark. Never have been, don't plan to. This can be our quarters now. Don't give me that look. I know my reputation."

"Earned?"

Jazz grinned at her, his visor rippling with blue energy side to side. "Anonymity is a spy's first protection. If I'm not around, the excuse of being busy on my berth covers all questions. Doesn't do for me to tell them I'm out gathering information they can't know about. Being anonymous means you are plain, ordinary and fit right in no one considers ya a threat. White paint job with color striping but nothing flashy. My visor hides my optics and their advanced functions as needed. Take my build," he gestured at himself, from feet pads to the tip of his black helm blocks.

"Standard mech chassis, shorter than most mechs. Hardly a design to be more than what it seems," Solspark commented thoughtfully.

"Is it? Do you know if I were one mark shorter, I would have been classified a scout early on? I got the skills for it but being a bit taller than Hound, beat it all, I'm over the officialized limit. I keep my optics hid and only medics use to know how powerful my spark is. They would pressure me all the time to get a bigger shell, more armor and weaponry but I didn't. Know why? Crawling through air ventilation systems or drinking high grade in interstellar bars looking for information when you are Leader class warrior mech size ain't a good thing. Large build, larger target for large blast holes I say. Training put me into Special Operations when the war began. I met Prowl while he was recovering from the space station debacle of Prime Mechner."

"I have heard rumors about you and Prowl. A team that seems mismatched. He fulfills an administrative role, you do field work," she commented.

"Administrative here on earth. We teamed in the field for most of the war, my rank of First Lieutenant tied to his Military Strategist. Prowl's strength is decision making and planning and his logic saved both our afts and mine more than I care to admit. In return, my sparkling personality keeps him from glitch locking time to time. Our biggest challenge together occurred when Shockwave attacked Iacon before it fell. Prowl ordered all Autobots to leave the city borders, letting drones and automated weaponry hold the walls. We had already evacuated out the historic items vault and the science division projects. He took a critical hit, more bad timing than aimed and went temporarily offline, leaving me in command."

"What did you do?"

"I followed his plan," Jazz stated. His visor went dark as memories replayed. "I watched the evacuating transports clear and medics revived him as the city walls were crumbling. He saved every Autobot and neutral there by ordering a regrouping elsewhere. Starscream used a planetary engine to destroy the entire area as a political move to remove Shockwave, hoping to wipe us out at the same time."

"How did he know?"

"In the way only Prowl could, logic dictated the Decepticons wanted more than the empty city. He recognized we were herded there while Optimus fought elsewhere. A few mechs accused him of cowardice with the first orders to leave. They remained online after to see him promoted to Second In Command under Optimus Prime for his indispensable expertise. We went from being a team to commanding my own unit before leaving Cybertron. You should trust him more," his visor brightened, the soft smile on his face a look for the few he trusted.

"I considered telling him when I first arrived. Made the appointment to ask for help in researching ancient matrixes, conversely Prowl cancelled. It was the day the Decepticons attacked the power plant. I uh, never remade it. Told him the problem had been solved," Solspark admitted sheepishly.

"You spun out and raced away?"

"I did not," she stated firmly. "The problem of what to do solved itself. Leading the battle and returning with wounded, Prime waited until they were all seen in med bay before his own injuries. I heard their comments in the hallway. Comparing his battles with Megatron over time. I can't get an arm plate repaired and he rarely is whole and walking! I can't do what he does."

"He can't do what he does sometimes. You ain't seen him on high grade or tripping over his own feet pads or breaking surfaces with his heavier mass. And Elita One his mate is no slouch. Ask her sometime about the visit to Alpha Trion with Starscream. She saved him. Don't look at me like that. He is Prime not Primus. Training helps as does years of command. You are never limited to only two choices."

"Like being Prime or a broken carrier?"

"How come you never had sparklings?" Jazz seemingly changed the subject, watching closely.

"Why does every mech ask me that? You wouldn't ask another mech that question," she narrowed her optics.

Laughing, Jazz hopped up and shifted against the wall alongside before answering her. "You'd be surprised what I've asked another mech. Even tricked them into revealing or doing."

"Sparklings are too much a commitment issue. For all we can upload data, there are still important things we must teach and learn. I'm not sure I could commit that amount of time and caring to another being. What if they turn out wrong? Become a Decepticon or are messed up processor wise? Do you know how many fields I have trained in? How many times I've changed locations, duties to hide? If I can't choose my path how do I expect to guide an innocent sparkling what to do?"

"Sounds like you'd be a great parent to me. But being a femme makes you no more a spark hatcher or unworthy of combat training. I am spy, Temple guardian, music lover and more. Words and titles cannot define me. Neither should you limit yourself that way. A definition excludes the possibility of change, of growth. And broken means damaged but not destroyed. Fit in with the rest of us. Or at least my team."

"I have no rank," she countered. The old levels earned erased over time or hid, often by her.

"Rank among Autobots is more for the administrative side. There are so few of us left, we take what we can get. An individual's skills count more than titles. Bumblebee is a Scout and Special Operations. He and Hound are used more in first contact or working with humans but can infiltrate a 'Con base with me anytime. Course, practice makes perfect but there are things," he leaned over to kiss her forehead plate without processing. "That you never expect to happen."

Optics closing, she leaned into his touch as his systems nearly stalled. Then she straightened as he opened his mouth to apologize and touched helm to helm. ::I hear you. I know your spark. I am safe::

:: Yes, with me. But I cannot always protect you Sols. We need to work on your skills. First mission practice tomorrow:: Jazz answered, relieved their feelings were mutual.

"Training time already?" Solspark asked, leaning back.

"Training never ends. The bot that doesn't use their skills is no better off than the bot who has none," Jazz corrected, hopping off the bunk to search a large table pile in the main room for a data cube. "What are the most valuable skills for a spy?"

"Knowing how to break in and steal stuff," Solspark answered, resisting the urge to tease him about the mess everywhere in the room.

"Wrong. And you chided me about watching late night human tv shows. It's the ability to blend in. You roll up to any gathering and read the energy to find the troublemakers or potential information holders. By the time you clear your transform, you should know who to pump for a free drink, a contact to further your search or plant disinformation and be able to disappear. Try again femme."

"Lying or having to offline?" Solspark guessed next.

"Neither. Spies are not killers, I do it because they have earned it through their choices or actions, refusing to roll off or fly away. Make no mistake, I take sparks because it is required otherwise I would be nothing but an executioner. Decepticons have plenty of those. And lying makes me a master of deception and infiltration when no other option exists. Otherwise I never do it."

"Autobots do not lie," she quoted, that she did know.

"An excellent rule because Decepticons lie to steal, to inflict pain, to break trust, and gain an advantage to exploit others. Megatron once spoke before the Grand Council on why all levels of Cybertron classes should be made equal. When they refused him, he raised an army by giving the discontent masses what they wanted to hear and thousands paid with everything they had, for a future he was never going to give them as the war began. You were sparked into the war. I saw it start with a lie. Megatron believing he was better than any of the Primes and setting forth a plan to remove the Council and old ways of power to replace them with himself as the only leader. Tell a lie once and all your truths become questionable," he taught.

"Now I feel ignorant," she vented lightly. The softest touch on her shoulder had her turning to face him.

"Ignorance does not equal dumb. It means you need to learn. And what you don't know in this job will get you offlined," Jazz corrected. "I am twice your age and always learning. If it was data alone, any upload would do. It is making the right choices, the hard ones that will have consequences beyond yourself."

"Using discipline? Power over others?"

"Discipline does not mean control. Discipline means having the sense to do what exactly is needed. There will be mistakes. There will be obstacles. There will be frustrations. Difficult does not mean impossible. When you get tired, learn to rest, not to quit. And it's recharge time. In the morning, after you have rested the real fun begins."

The morning alarm startled her, her hand flailing to shut it off as optics blinked open. Rolling over on her side, Solspark faced Jazz, energon in hand. "How do you always get in my space without triggering any alerts?"

"Practice. I will show you how in time. I need you to go to this hallway on Level Three and wait. Your objective brief will be sent. Acquire the data cube and keep yourself online and functional without being taken down."

"The lesson?" She downed the energon, not noticing the special mix.

"Escape. A dead spy is a waste of training. And I better not catch ya later." And he left.

'Wow. What a pep talk.' She processed, rising and making her way through the room. 'How about evade and escape these piles? How can a bot so meticulous in his work live in cluttered chaos?'

**Ark Third Deck**

"Time for the first check in," Solspark realized. Part of the mission instructions, she had to report in, or 'rescue' would come find her, endangering other bots until her mission completed. Personally she suspected it was a way to track her movements. As former communications, she knew how to bounce a signal and used it ruthlessly, pinging it out of the break room on the second floor. 'There. Track that.'

ALL COMMAND CALL. DECEPTICON INFILTRATION IN THE ARK. OLD ENGINE ROOM THIRD FLOOR. REPORT TO DUTY STATIONS. RED ALERT, SECURITY DIRECTOR

'A Decepticon raid at the other end of this deck? Sounds legit right after my check in and announced by the only command bot not in the drill listing, amazing,' she processed, identifying Hound and Bumblebee energy signatures next corridor down. 'Scrap. My signal bounce failed. And I'm trapped in this dead end, ends in rock from the crash. Wait, operations is never trapped. See beyond the obvious.'

Looking down at the single level metal floor with no reinforcement, she ran calculations. 'I should just fit between the beams. Lightweight add on post crash instead of normal ship decking.' Engaging the laser setting on her rifle, she carved a circle around her with the narrowest precision beam. At the last second she remembered to engage her magnetic pad locks. The metal disc she had just cut was freed but didn't fall; instead it pulled on her, too much pull.

"Scrap!" Solspark dropped, arms scrabbling for traction before hanging by her fingers on the hole edges. "This seemed like a good idea!" Suspended between floors with the additional weight pulling her down, she released the metal disc. After wincing at the reverberating clanging noise it made hitting the floor, she let go to drop into running full tilt. Any nano second and pursuit would be chasing, drawn by the noise. Switching corridors, a concentrated data pulse snapped open a strange metal side rolling door allowing her to change directions. Unfamiliar ramps took her higher than the normal five floors of the ark, the long stone tunnel undisturbed by doors or open areas. Another metal rolling door faced her, slowly responding to her override.

Ducking under the partially raised door, her feet pads transformed out trying to grip sliding on the slick flooring as she floundered for a moment. The door descended immediately, the locking energy patterns unrecognized as was the vast circular room carved out of the mountain itself. "And I'm stuck here," she said, noting the way she left the only tracks in the dust. "What room is never rolled into?"

Staring up and turning, five recharge bunks were attached high in the air, four spacious and one huge bunk with no visible ladder or stairs bolted to the outer walls leaving her confused. Enormous barred skylights flooded the area with sunlight with the highest one open to the air, a deck extending to the outside through sealed blast doors. The bright winged crest painted on the ceiling above her head solved it. "Aerialbots. Great. I am in the Aerialbots lair. Couldn't be Dinobots or Wheeljack's spare lab, no! Must be those insane fliers and they are off on training. I don't fly and climbing is out. Walls and floor are base rock, no help there."

Sub routines ran, looking for any information on the fliers that could help. Remote accessing the Teletran database, files scrolled by. Many of the files were specialist locked or beyond her need on understanding their combiner form, her medical status capable of unlocking them but ignored. "Jazz might be monitoring and even he doesn't know my hidden medical rank access. Woah, I never realized Air Raid and Fireflight competed with the twins for action write ups on getting in trouble. And I processed my four in a vorn was bad. They can earn that in a solar year. Supplies are ordered then rejected and sent back down all the time for exchanges. Picky fliers rejecting something out of almost every shipment. Wait, that's it. They send it back down. And time for another check in. I will be gone by the time they track me here."

A quick search located it in the wall on the far side of the room. Optics auto calculated the size of the transport lift, the small square set in the wall. "If I fold up tight, I can barely squeeze in. Better hope the door auto opens on the other end." Sliding in on her aft, the femme pulled her legs up slowly, wrapping her arms tight against her mid riff and tucking her head to fit in the square space. A remote connection and the door shut, the mini elevator descending slowly.

A breem later, Solspark chuckled wiping at the grease mark on her arm from sliding out the narrow door, blasted apart when it refused to open. "Jazz, you were right again. Being leader class size is a bad thing for a spy."

She froze, her rifle sub pacing out as movement ahead triggered contact warnings, the energy pattern unrecognized. Jamming interference took her targeting locks out. "Not friendly. What surprise is this?"

A scream of sound and the winged shape hopped into sight, the Decepticon symbol prominent on each wing. Red optics set on either side of the black beak targeted her, the menacing figure of silver and red odd as he balanced on the floor, talons spread to stand.

'What are the odds? Laserbeak this far underground?' she processed. The red optics glowed brightly, the split-second warning before he fired.

COMMAND CALL. ALL UNITS STAND DOWN. TARGET LOCATED. AND WOULD SIC AND TIC PLEASE CONTACT ME? RED ALERT, SECURITY DIRECTOR.

Limping, her armor charred in several places Solspark snorted at the puzzled tone in the official message. The decoy now safely in Red Alert's possession as Jazz and Prowl were off limits per the mission briefing. 'Where else would I turn in that thing?' The resounding clang it made startling the red and white armored bot a treasured memory before leaving Red Alert gaping behind his desk. The walk to Prowl's office quickly finished, the data disk dropped in the marked square on his desk. Rather than send another mission check-in she changed her status to 'wash racks / self-repair.' Jazz could chew her out later for not reporting a debrief, the mission parameters reached as far as Solspark figured. "Online and functional without being taken down, and you did not catch me later," she echoed, frowning at the destroyed end of her rifle.

Jazz found her in the holding room between the wash rack areas, the femmes on the right and mechs on the left. Not because they needed separating but a reminder the twins were not allowed in the other area after exchanging cleaner for armor color changers, Elita One among the affected. Optimus threatening to brig them for a vorn after seeing his beloved femme bright purple, everywhere. Solspark sat on a bench, arm reaching back trying to rub nanite laden repair salve across the burn gash shoulder to shoulder plate.

"Why did you challenge Laserbeak? He is dangerous! Blasted Optimus in med bay once nearly offlining him. Red Alert freaked telling me," Jazz started out, reaching and grabbing the container away to scoop out a gob.

"The decoy? I knew it was fake as soon as I saw it," she groaned, leaning into his touch as he applied the repair solve.

"Why would you process he was not real?" Jazz challenged, wary her processes would get her offlined yet.

"The energy scanners Red Alert installed. The Ark entrance ones you told me about the first day we traded for information," she reminded, playing his voice back.

_Unless you are Rumble riding Ravage with Laserbeak on your shoulder, nothing to worry about._

"And you relied on that? Do you know how many ways there are to infiltrate the Ark?" Strong hands traced down her back, confirming armor edges sealed down to the wound across her hip.

"I've studied the cassettes. Laserbeak likes staying hidden and gathering information to relay back. Every time he is offlined another version appears with the same programming. And you like using realistic settings, full of nasty surprises like field missions gone wrong to teach. I moved too slow and got burned on my hip and shoulders rolling clear figuring he wouldn't engage in one on one combat. I learned I need to react quicker to a threat. Really though Jazz, the coincidence that winged terror appearing before me in a maintenance hallway and not a high-profile target area like energon storage?"

"That hallway connects to our most secure backup server. Only way to access it is at that console. A fail safe for files too sensitive to be kept in Teletran One or personal set ups. This is not the first time Laserbeak has been caught near there. Command kept the attempts classified to protect the location," Jazz explained, tracing the deep mar across her hip armor. Any other time the contact would have been sensual, this instance confirming major energon lines were intact inside the gash.

"A hidden target. Missed that in the mission brief," she pondered, relaxing with his touches welcomed and wanted, soothing battle damage.

"Sols, listen to me. Laserbeak was not a decoy. The drill was simulated, his incursion was real. And not part of my design. He infiltrated the Ark; the command warnings were real. Your locator signal pinged in the break room then the Aerialbots quarters or I would have retrieved you," Jazz leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her to pull her back against him. He needed to feel her spark and signature energy to calm his own system protocols. "I saw the claw marks across your rifle. You could have lost an optic or worse than him shredding the stock end."

Solspark hesitated, deciding Jazz needed to know the truth. "I fear Soundwave, not his cassettes. He hacked a Combat Captain who saved my spark several times on rescue runs. Soundwave stripped everything away and left him the processor of a cleaning roller. I studied what intel I could find after Tyger Pax, if we ever crossed paths again. I knew Laserbeak is susceptible to concurrent energy discharges. My rifle didn't take him down. I slashed the power strip on the wall and attacked, throwing him and my rifle power base in to cross blow. Even a decoy, I wanted its last sight to be me. He should have perished instantly, instead of thrashing free and clawing at me as he offlined," Solspark shivered, realizing how close the fight had been, the threat underestimated. Holding her arm up, she partially transformed the metal outward, displaying the talon grooves. "I wanted him gone, but it feels like vengeance not justice. I don't want to become like them. Having hate in my spark and wanting them to suffer."

"The fact you are concerned means you won't. It's not how we make mistakes but how we choose to correct them that define us. I wanted you to learn the lesson of escape and you did better. You learned to face your own motives, accepting the result is not what you want in your spark. Optimus Prime has probably the highest kill count next to Megatron, but you will never hear him mention it. He refuses to keep count, wanting to be known for the sparks he saves and the goal of ending this war. Cannot process a better example than that."

::Prowl to Jazz and Solspark:: Prowl sent, his comm tone puzzled.

::Go for both:: Jazz answered, mischievously smiling at her and adding their location tag to the message.

::Red Alert just handed me a fried Laserbeak drone, stating Solspark left it? Is she functional?:: Prowl asked, reading the femme wash racks locator tag.

::Attending to injuries now, all minor. Training crossed paths with him. Filing repairs orders shortly for a hole lasered through the Third floor, a blasted delivery elevator door and a power relay panel outside the Aerialbot area:: Solspark updated, seeing Jazz blink at the list.

::And the official report of the incident?:: Prowl prodded.

::Laserbeak snuck in the Ark, made his way through the floors and hit a panel, shorting out:: Jazz reported crisply.

::Did he identify her?:: Prowl asked, his tone conveying a faint trace of concern.

::Negative. No time to relay who offlined him as he went:: Jazz reassured, nuzzling down her neck bracings. Distracted, she never felt the new tracker he added under her armor edge.

::I await your unofficial reports with all relative details. Keep me advised. SIC clear:: Prowl ended the call.

"Now what?"

"Get you cleaned up and back to our quarters for a full debrief. Any more damage from your training and I'll be filing budget updates," Jazz teased, tempted to nuzzle down her armor then passed. He was not a code happy youngling and Solspark needed time to process her emotions. 'Our willingness to wait reveals the value we place on what we are waiting for,' Jazz quoted, watching her finish toweling off. 'For her, I waited a lifetime. I want us to advance together and live a life full of love, happiness and naughty adventures.'

_To be continued…_

_Author's Notes: Thank you for continuing reading and Reviews are love. Yes, lots of teaching but the action will pick up quickly. Wreckers from Cybertron are inbound, needed Solspark to learn a few steps for the next adventure. The planetary engine attack on Iacon with Shockwave is a canon reference (TF Comic) as is Megatron before the council (Transformers Prime). And Jazz has two part time positions open. Any takers? Until all are one. _


	5. Chapter 5 Obstacle courses and Challenge

On lining near Solspark always felt right, a relationship no bot could have foreseen, even him. The ops team rolled with it, wanting to know who could train her first, each in their specialized area as her basic skills training left him frazzled and an unintentional path of damage across the Ark.

'More than a friend, less than a lover and hopefully a spark mate in the future,' Jazz reasoned, unable to pinpoint the exact instant she had found a way into his spark. 'All that time building my reputation of many partners to keep them from getting interested in me. No bot figuring out I was alone for centuries. Ah well, cover was getting old. Running out of associates still online to supposedly partner with.' Sharing the recharge room with his half-sized bunk on the right side and her bunk on the left side blocked much of the lower wall murals but a necessary sacrifice to keep her close.

Rustling sounds signified Solspark waking, stretching and sitting up. Jazz adding an entry to his team list of upgrades. 'Femme got to come online quicker. Add coding for instant alert. Sound dampers to quiet her steps from Bumblebee. Dozen throwing energy daggers under those long forearm plates from Mirage. Add a jammer relay mid gear from Skids. Code tracker to always find her location and retrieve instead of the portable ones, Prowl and me. I swear she knows somehow and get injuries to wipe them out. And not a signal she can corrupt or bounce ping."

Solspark stretched full length, her long armor lines graceful. Seeing him, her smile widened to enlighten her countenance. "What's on the schedule for today?"

"Trouble, mischief and disaster."

"Sounds like Grimlock, twins and another attempt to disable the alarm system," she teased, self -deprecating.

"Not a bad third attempt. We need fire drills quarterly even without Wheeljack's lab explosions and you were helping Red Alert stay on track. Hence why we practice, practice and practice. Like I keep telling you, all the simulations ain't a substitute for the real thing. Things always go wrong. Wait until you hit the field."

"I bypassed the proper circuit wires according to the schematic downloaded and it should not have triggered," she reminded, straightening the top berth cover neatly.

"And change happens. Learned that on a mission where I had an escape plan all worked out and found they had done some redecorating. Dead end corridor instead of a branching hallway and pursuit coming right behind."

"What happened?" She stopped, the rifle power pack in her hand instead of loaded.

"I hologrammed as part of the floor and they went running by. Decepticon seekers never looked down, running high sensors sweeps in case I tried the ceiling or escaping through the circulation vents. Learned my lesson relying only on official records. You got to plan for problems," he chuckled, approving of her auto loading the repaired rifle without having to look, her focus on his story.

"My hologram emitter covers a hand space at best. Never my whole frame."

"And a lovely frame but we need to upgrade that too. If you are willing?" Jazz peered, pretending to size her up looking through the space between his cupped hands.

"My frame?" Solspark's tone could have frozen the volcano's core.

"Holo emitter. Spy and saboteur is part training and…" He reminded, wondering the reason behind her sensitivity on the issue. One more bit of knowledge to trade or trick her into revealing to his delight.

"Part parts. The best tools are useless if you don't know how to use them. You are your greatest asset. Unarmed and alone in a room you should still be dangerous," she quoted dropping the rifle onto her back auto storing it away. "Add away if the job requires it then, the next time I am in med bay you have my permission. I could use a handy cutter, use to have a medical saw and I miss it sometimes. How about a grand sword like Optimus?" she pantomimed a long blade slicing the air.

"Girl bot neither of our sparks could power that or his mace. But a smaller version," Jazz smiled, recording her agreement and forwarding it to Ratchet and Wheeljack. Wheeljack to make the tech, Ratchet to install it when available. "There is a matter we need to discuss, however. More personal."

"I will not add sound speakers to my alt mode," she teased, turning serious as he went serious. Bracing for the worse, little emotion was betrayed by her frame movement as his visor flipped up.

"I am presenting myself for your consideration, without demand or reservation. I ask that you challenge or deny my spark, as equal to your own, forever apart yet one half of a whole for as long as our sparks blaze and beyond to the Matrix," Jazz stated.

"Yes."

"Uh, that took one nano second. Are you sure? I am being serious," he stared at her, his multi-layer optics scanning Solspark for any sign of hesitation or refusal.

"On my spark, you beat me to it. I had processed asking you," she confessed, optics wide and venting hard. If she had been human she would have blushed bright red.

"Then why didn't you?"

"We have not been together that long. Didn't want to risk losing the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I am not a thing," he teased, wrapping his arms around her to pull her against his front mounts. "And I feel the same. We got all the time in the universe."

"Prowl to Jazz. We have a developing situation," transmitted clearly through his speakers.

"And time is up, no thank you universe. Go ahead," he answered, leaving his arms around her. She made no attempt to pull away as they listened, her energy layers read into his every system for future reference.

"Commander Ultra Magnus is down, not critical but heavily damaged after a round with Shockwave. He is currently inbound on a shuttle for advanced repairs. Can you take command of the accompanying Wreckers until he is released from med bay?"

"Me? Ain't that normally your job?"

"Optimus Prime is meeting with human officials in DC all month with Ironhide, Wheeljack and Elita's femme team. Congressional hearings. A corporation wants to harvest the border forest on the Ark's edge."

"This area is protected by treaty, both worldwide government and local military," Jazz stated, for Solspark's benefit and let her hear a sample of what earth-based command duties could include.

"Humans want the boundaries on the treaty land down to bare ground. Elita and Chromia are working with lobbyists, Prime testifying on preventing the devastation that Cybertron suffered from happening here. The aim is to make it a protected national forest park as their government had promised and never did. I am in command here until their return."

"Needing me to take up the slack with the new arrivals. Got yer back Prowl. Jazz out," He agreed, sending the digital signatures and electronic forms to make it official.

"Who are the Wreckers?" Her voice half muffled against his front assembly.

"A special task force, close knit combat team. Have to see who is on the roster currently. They tend to lose bots all the time. Set their own rules on time and places. Don't be surprised if they drop in here unannounced."

"Do I have to go back to my quarters then? Or can I stay here?"

"Neither," he said, then relented at her flickering panic before releasing her and stepping back, his visor engaging to damp his optics down. "We are getting new quarters. Mechs going to combine next three rooms over with this one. Welcoming present for you joining our little group and an excuse to expand. Convert side rooms for team conferences, minor repairs and our own energon storage area. Office space and the most important, room for my music collection. For now, we got a spare room across the hall. Time to meet the Wreckers."

That evening they enjoyed a quiet moment of energon discussing the new arrivals. "Arcee is an expert in hand to hand combat though not the strongest and a sharpshooter to rival Moonracer. Springer is brave and confident to being smug and the only other bot to match my smart quipping," Jazz noted.

"And charming in a dignified way. Protective of Arcee I noticed. Stood between her and you every time. Your reputation no doubt," Solspark teased.

"Blurr is special. Super-fast until he tires, recharge mid step almost anywhere. Then up and running. Tried duplicating his tech over time, no success. He was unloading and doing their room set up, but you can meet him tomorrow when he stops, literally. Perceptor stayed behind to hold the base. Kup can teach you tricks but loses you in war stories. He keeps Hot Rod under control. Crazy mech with the brightest armor paints."

"I like Hot Rod. He would be good to team with on a long patrol," Solspark stated, sipping her energon. She should have wondered why she was so drawn to him. His brash attitude, careless mannerisms and yet the trust. A feeling of old friendship needing only a word to renew accompanied by a need to support, reassure him in his decisions. Belatedly she realized the energon cube was empty that she had been staring into.

"Does he need to have an unfortunate accident? Ain't above removing my competition for ya spark and I know where to hide a few frames."

"Not like that Jazz," she laughed, covering his hand with hers. "No one even enters my driving lane but you. There's more to Hot Rod than we can see."

"Trouble? Anger issues? Lacking common sense?" Taking her cube, he chucked it to ricochet against the wall, spin across the counter and tilt into the recycle bin.

"More potential to be great. Why are you laughing?"

"Hot Rod? Potential? More like needing rescue thanks to his own actions. Wait a breem," he smiled at her, a look combining mischief and danger and utterly Jazz. "Big day tomorrow lady bot."

**Far Field**

Watches on the sidelines groaned and paying off bets as Rollbar fell, his armor dented. The fourth contender on the obstacle course, he had made it the farthest from the starting line. Then an unexpected riser from the swinging beams smashed into him, driving him sideways to trigger an out-of-bounds ending. The penalty chest sensors shocking both him and the victim he failed to rescue, the designated objective of the course.

A creation of Jazz, Prowl, and Wheeljack, it challenged their abilities, no bot having an advantage in size or speed as the three sections of the course rolled out. The first third emphasizing running irregular surfaces while evading strikes from simulated cross fire. The second section with traps and moving obstacles testing balancing and frame control, two ion cannons at the start that triggered on any weapons fired to prevent contestants from blasting their way through. The third and most dangerous section was armed with half a dozen shocking grid fields and pop up Decepticon warriors hidden among obstacles for testing endurance. A training course reflecting earth hazards for practice, Optimus and Ironhide holding the record for both time and damage caused.

The Wreckers were originally scheduled to train on it and now it was a contest for all. Any challenger had to complete all three sections and free Hot Rod from being a prisoner of the Decepticons or both were penalized. The fifth and final attempt contestant that failed and the day would end with the 'prisoner' and "rescue' being offlined. Four of the Ark Autobots had tried and failed, the Wreckers enjoying watching far more than risking their own frames.

In the laser holding cell, Hot Rod rubbed at his armor, the latest charge dissipating as the red and gold mech waited. One try left and no volunteers, the penalty charge ramped up to five times strength. The lower charge still tingled when a voice interrupted the silence.

"I challenge."

Repeating it louder, every optic snapped to her or so she felt. "I, Solspark, take the challenge to be the fifth contender."

The watchers either vented in disbelief or cheered, bets escalating as she walked up to platform to accept the sensor. A moment of tense arguing between her and First Aid over its placement added to betting speculation as the penalty sensor bolted onto her hip and not her front. The Medical Assistant stomped off, much like his boss Ratchet would have done.

Stepping up to the starting line, Solspark watched the countdown timer reset. 'Thank Primus I left the Matrix in our room. Spy rule seven. Vary your pattern and stay within your cover. If this goes wrong, no bot will be the wiser it exists. I must be off processor to try but I am tired of seeing Hot Rod suffer because they are not taking this serious.'

Prowl laid one hand on Jazz's shoulder, no words spoken as the mech literally bent the data pad in his hand with tension. Rules were set by them and could not be changed to give her any advantage. She was on her own.

Horns blared, sending Solspark into motion, running and climbing through the first third of the course, her past experiences of moving precisely to not jar wounded evacuees and still duck weapons fire an advantage. Sliding and falling down the last obstacle left dings and scratches in her armor but Solspark was still upright and winning, even if stumbling across the line.

"Can she clear the second section?" Jazz's question was softly spoken, meant for one bot only.

"No. There is one route that would get her thru and tactically the odds of her recognizing it are low. And she would never survive the third section, lacking both experience and part enhancements. Her actions indicate she knows failure is probable, moving the sensor down onto her hip and away from the Matrix." Prowl answered concisely.

On the course Solspark watched the timer reset, the countdown triggering when she took her first step forward. 'Right, swinging moving targets. Evade or disable without weapons use,' she murmured, plotting a route for minimum collisions. 'I don't know how I am going to win, I just know I am not going to lose.' Running, she passed between the cannons before slowing to duck under the swinging beams rather than attempting to go over, the path that had cost Rollbar his victory. 'Never going to clear this section in time. A straight-line path to Hot Rod and every obstacle invented is crossing it to make me swerve or evade to lose time. This course is designed to make us fail. Only a flyer could win. Wait a nano second.'

::Hot Rod! How heavy of a physical impact can your armor withstand?:: Solspark sent on a narrow internal beam, jumping over bouncing disks.

::Why? I can't leave the square. Not even to save you. Rules won't allow it. And how are you talking to me? I'm surrounded by signal jammers.:: Hot Rod puzzled, seeing the laser lines confining him.

:: They cheat, so can I. And I am about to hit you, hard. Get ready mech!.:: Solspark warned, her comm tone a mixture of excitement and confidence.

::How hard? You are half a field away and hit me with what?:: Hot Rod asked, able to see the traps still waiting on the path and all were bolted or locked into the ground.

::Going to engage the big guns and let the force propel me into you.:: Solspark answered, pretending to focus on the beam swinging back and forth over the mud pit.

::I can't catch you at that speed! You'll be like a frigging rocket!:: Hot Rod protested, suddenly understanding.

::Language youngling. Not catch. Cross your arms over your spark and brace to protect. Tuck and roll upon my impact, disburse the kinetic energy. Ready in five.:: Solspark ordered.

::This is a bad plan!:: Hot Rod argued, moving his feet apart and dropping his center of gravity lower before locking down armor. Weapons were disabled, coding securing accidental release if his battle systems engaged after contact.

::Four.:: Solspark counted. Twisting on her legs, she rotated guidance locks to angle his direction as the long rifle on her back sub spaced out, charging rapidly to full power.

::I am not sure this is how I want to win:: Hot Rod

::Three. Would you rather take the full charge in losing?:: Solspark continued counting. Sliding her entire frame to the side she missed aerial ribbons to duck under another beam set, moving but only halfway through the course section. Her left arm blaster rose out of armor plating, hard charging into a high-power shot when needed as she moved two more steps up the path.

::We are so offline after this:: Hot Rod mock groaned, excitement racing at the wild plan.

::Two. It's my idea. I will take any blame:: Solspark offered. All her attention focused on the plan, not seeing Jazz utterly confused as she hesitated mid-course, pulling weapons with time rapidly running out. Prowl stiffened as he watched, beginning to realize what she intended with no time to stop it.

::Blame is the least of my concerns right now.:: Hot Rod added, closing his optics, overriding anti collision safety protocols lest he move.

::One. Engage!:: Solspark sent. Dropping prone she drew her rifle in one smooth motion right side as her left arm locked before rolling and flipping up onto her feet. The cannon targeting systems registering her weapons too slowly as she fired dead on, blowing the red chaser panel apart on both units. She took one second to throw the rifle to side to get it clear, the arm blaster ejecting and falling away before the cannons activated.

Bright fury overlaid into a single line, the cannon energy pouring into the spot where she had been. No longer standing but partially transforming, Solspark flipping her more fragile helm and front away and to the side. The calculated movement allowing her thickest plates take the blast, hurling her down the course as the penalty sensor disintegrated on her hip. Her trajectory precise, she slammed straight into Hot Rod as he waited, smashing him out of the trap with their combined forms sliding past the final goal line as the timer expired, no penalty charge triggered.

Faintly his transmission wove in. "Charge…would …have …hurt …less ...than …this…." Blackness overtook them.

Outside med bay the Wreckers listened, audios against the doors. Kup and Springer standing, Arcee and Blurr crouching below them. Inside Prowl and Ratchet watched the arguing pair, ready to intervene if needed. Solspark sat on the surgical table, her side armor removed with the back armor bent and mangled, the worse damage covered in a medical drape. Jazz stormed back and forth in front of her, his optics blazing nearly purple without the visor engaged.

"Are your processors cracked? What were you doing? Your battle armors were entangled! Do you know how long it took to free you from Hot Rod to get repairs started? You tied up med bay and the full medical team for complicated injuries that should never occur outside of a combat situation!" Jazz continued in a rare display of anger, letting her see how upset he was because of her actions.

"Sorry. Trying to win," she mumbled.

"Win?! You both could have been offlined! I am your commanding officer and none of my team should ever risk themselves that way! And on something so trivial as a game? Have you learned nothing that I have tried to teach you? Logic dictates action when necessary and that was illogical off the scale to risk yourself and your teammate that way! The only reason you are not in the brig is because I may need you or I would weld your aft to the nearest console. But if you ever do that again, by Primus, you will never see the light outside this Ark again!" Jazz threatened, locking down his systems to run tighter controls as she flinched, leaning away. Her pain bothered him, her fearing him worse than any injury. The Matrix sitting nearby on the counter flared, adding to his awareness of the situation. Normally the chewing out motivated his ops teammates, arguing why their decision was right or promising to never mess up that way again. This was different. She was hurt and he wanted to help her, not add to her pain but Solspark had to understand how dangerous her choices were.

::What do you find amusing?:: Prowl asked on a medical private comm line, looking over and seeing Ratchet's smirk. The situation could become dangerous for all involved if it continued escalating, forcing the armored enforcer to possibly subdue his best friend and nothing was amusing about that. And trying to ignore the guilt he felt from realizing Solspark's plan too slowly, helplessly watching as the ion cannons fired.

::Hearing my lectures with his vocal dramatics. All the aft chewing he received over the centuries, is now directed her way. Fun to watch.:: Ratchet gestured, his lips echoing the last phrase without sound.

Prowl analyzed the conversation, nodding in surprise as word matches confirmed. ::A combination of Prime, me and you apparently. And your dramatics::

::I do not gesture and stomp like that. I throw wrenches at worst!:: the medic protested, making a swinging arm gesture the same instant Jazz gestured it in front of Solspark.

"There is a thin line between being a hero and being a memory. A line you nearly crossed the nano second you fired on those ion cannons. And what do I tell Hot Rod? Sorry about your teammate taking you out and saving the Decepticons the effort!" Jazz continued lecturing, his spark winding down from the fright of the collision and their still forms, neither responding as medics moved in.

"I told Hot Rod before," she began, stopping to wince in increasing pain as self repair fizzed out.

"You told? That solves everything! How about telling gravity and cannon fire not to work while at it!" He razzed, calming down to not upset her further. "The Wreckers found it hilarious and refused to press any type of disciplinary action. Your stay in med bay could have been avoided by processing the plan more thoroughly. He is known for being reckless and you blew past his record by Cybertron's farthest moons by coming up with this plan! Did you even consider the consequence to your actions long term?" He asked, hesitating as monitors beeped warnings as pain thresholds reached.

"Want to recharge in room. After lockdown meds," she vented, reaching for him. Jazz engaged his visor down as he moved close enough for her to lean on him.

"Not yet. You are too vulnerable until at least a layer of armor is replaced, even temporary layers. They already started construction on our rooms and the spare quarters are too small for your treatments. Otherwise we could share quarters with the Dinobots this week," he lightened, looking over her shoulder and nodding.

"Dinobots ok. Please Jazz," Solspark begged, a longing in her tone.

::I will not abandon you sweet spark, but I am sorry. Your actions put you here and your injuries are beyond my control. We will make you better. You will be safe:: Jazz sent, touching helms with her. Her hands tightened on him then went limp as Ratchet finished the deep stasis coding injection. They eased her down flat on the surgical table, Jazz's touch lingering over her spark armor before stepping back.

"I have all the necessary parts for her upgrades except the deep tracker. Wheeljack is still building it and transferred with Prime. We can add it once they are back. Then the hard part," Ratchet rolled a parts cart closer, removing trays and laying out tools. Prowl took his leave out the hidden passage, the situation under control.

"Recovery time?" Jazz guessed.

"Teaching her to use all this new tech. I'm surprised she agreed to it. And please remove that. I wouldn't want it misconstruing I was attacking and be fried," Ratchet gestured at the Matrix sitting on the counter nearby.

Picking it up, Jazz began transforming his chest plates to hide it. "For a small object, you certainly cause big problems."

"You or the Matrix?" Ratchet chided.

"It's okay if you don't like me, not every bot has perfect taste," Jazz rejoined, chuckling as he effortlessly caught a flung silver wrench. "Quick trip to Wheeljack's lab to adjust the back bar to accommodate her new fittings and I will return."

"The doors will be locked."

"Okay by me. Be needing the lock picking practice," his voice carried down the hallway as he left.

_To be continued…_

_Author's Notes: Thanks for reading and reviews. The formal spark request is like asking to date steady into an engagement mix. The pair work their relationship out over time in a race that lives for centuries plus. Once spark mated fully, they cannot sever the link or be undone if things go bad, costing both their sparks. A step not taken lightly. A challenge made in seriousness but breakable at any point by either or both without fault until the last step. Some bots never spark mate, other take partners keeping none and a few are forever spark mated like Optimus and Elita One, Chromia and Ironhide, Moonracer and Ratchet. The death of one takes out the other, their sparks as one even apart. Transform and roll out!_


	6. Chapter 6 Flash mob and missing records

**TF TRANSFORMERS **

::Challenge or deny:: Instant the comm message left, Jazz almost pulled it back, but he had to know. Most other mechs would have quit, their relationship too complicated and problematic. If her challenge returned, they would work it out until Solspark was an equal mate in his spark and by his side. If denied, he would still be her commander even if it meant hating him but never a victim again, trained to a higher level.

The argument in med bay that morning the worse he had endured in vorns. Solspark discovering her upgrades and the hurt finalizing into a few sentences, the pain at what had been done. What he had done.

"I never authorized!"

"Yes you did," Jazz corrected, sending her a file copy of her own voice, recorded in their quarters.

"_Add away if the job requires it then. The next time I am in med bay you have my permission. I could use a handy cutter."_

"And that gives you the right Commander?" Solspark hissed, the first traces of red he had ever seen flowing across her optics. Her silver blue frame nearly rebuilt, the outer armor ready but needing welds to cool and set around the new tech before activating.

"What would you choose? Walk away and waste your gifts or gear up and learn? You are Operations now. Not hiding on some distant asteroid base tracking signals. You are no longer alone, fighting battles within and without. You are part of a team and you can be our weakest link or part of a greater strength. We have to trust what you can do, and you have to trust us back," Jazz reasoned, offering her hope and a future.

"I've done my part, paid the price. Trusting others," she growled, tracing her spark scar overlay.

"And? Tell that to Optimus, Nova and the other Primes. They fought for our entire race, not themselves. You are responsible for how long you let what hurt you haunt you. Growth is painful, change is painful. But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you do not belong," he softened, wanting her to understand.

"Maybe I don't belong here," she echoed, sagging a little.

Snapping around, Jazz marched out of med bay without a word. His anger locking him tight, self control won over the centuries observing and waiting keeping him quiet. Prowl respected her ability to make the right decision, leaving out the hidden passageway. Ratchet shifted to his office, monitoring Ultra Magnus readings remotely.

"You do. Belong here that is." The quiet words a statement. Hot Rod stood by her, propped against her berth. His orange and yellow front armor removed, covered with a medical woven drape as his welds settled. He sat down gingerly, her hand guiding him as his internal compensators wobbled without the heavier armor weight.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Experience. I enlisted to get revenge. I fought front line, heavy combat then took a serious hit. Ended up in an outpost holding area, awaiting transport." He glanced up, recalling memories. "Kup was there. Both legs blown off, spark chamber fractured and telling stories about worse war injuries. Once the techs left, he kicked my aft into gear verbally. Never let up on me. Demanded I be on his team next mission and never left me behind. Even when I questioned myself. Strength doesn't come from what you can do. It comes from overcoming the things you once processed you couldn't. He taught me we cannot go back and change the past, but we can start where we are and change the ending."

Emotionally exhausted, she leaned against him, something she would never had done with another mech. His presence felt familiar, his touch the comforting of a best friend. Contact enough to be felt without pressure, ready to release and pull back if she wanted or hold tighter to reassure another cared. "I felt I was broken. Now, I am not sure what I am."

"They broke the wrong part of you," Hot Rod stated, resting his chin on her undamaged shoulder, his arms encircling her smaller frame. His only process of protecting, not as a mech to a femme but family. "They broke your wings and forgot you had claws."

"Probably add that next upgrade," she teased, relaxing.

"Make them retractable. You were made for far more beautiful things than war," his hand traced down her scar marking, as though wiping it away. The story behind it a mystery, the pain too real.

"I'm at war with myself. I love Jazz but I can't compete with any of this. His command rank, advanced training I can't even begin to master, being part of a team who finds out secrets when I spent my existence hiding, how can our love survive?" Solspark admitted softly.

"It's okay to fight for someone who loves you. It's not okay to fight for someone to love you. There's a huge difference. Do you want a mech to stand next to you because of loneliness? Or because he can't imagine standing next to any other?" Hot Rod asked softly, holding her smaller hands in one of his.

"I didn't want to fall in love or need somebot. I really didn't want anything. But now with Jazz, I started wanting everything. It's chaos now."

"Chaos is only understood when it is loved by the wild, not the weak. Maybe it won't work out. But maybe seeing if it does, will be the best adventure ever. And you heard him, you are no longer alone fighting battles. You are part of a team, me included. Let us help work it out," he challenged.

"It sounds reasonable when you put it that way."

"Usually if we are in a situation where I am the voice of reason, then we are in a very bad situation," Hot Rod admitted before they both lost it laughing. Behind them, Ultra Magnus listened as he reclined without moving.

Across the ark, the challenge signal returned to its sender, the message longer than a simple word answer. Bracing, Jazz opened it.

_::Challenge. You are not getting out that easily mech! Do not go self sacrificing on my account and race off. I am keeping the upgrades but no further adds unless I order them! We are not done with this:: Solspark_

Grinning, Jazz sat down at the nearest table, popping the top off his energon cube to drink it celebrating. 'First healthy sign from her.' The Wreckers filed in, grabbing energon and sitting in a loose semi circle at the table. Kup flipping the chair around, straddling it. Springer standing behind one, crossing both arms on top, letting his propeller blades flex to the sides. Arcee sitting down gracefully before kicking the next chair out of the way to allow Blurr speeding into that open space.

"Orders?" Springer asked, getting to the obvious. The green armored triple changer had served with both Prowl and Jazz, trusting them but also had responsibilities to the Wreckers as his family. And family superseded any proposed temporary orders on earth if necessary.

"Officially you are to train and update protocols while waiting for Ultra Magnus to recover. Help keep the peace here until Optimus Prime returns."

"Unofficially?" Arcee asked, spinning her full cube on her fingertip before opening it. The smaller pink armored femme adjusted on the chair, feet crossing up under her.

'Help keep my sanity,' Jazz processed but didn't say it aloud. "Train our newest member. She has potential but little or no background and needs group skills desperately. Trouble is drawn to her and a path of destruction behind her, so I want one bot at all times accompanying her, anywhere and everywhere, no exceptions."

"To guard and protect?" Springer asked, looking over at Arcee. Usually she paired femme to femme on a protection detail. Some places a mech could not, nor should with a unbonded femme.

"Focus on being a unit by keeping her in it, Ark Ops and Wreckers. Until she is out of basic field training it works both ways. Any mech losing her gets demoted a notch and no field missions for ten joors. And better have an explanation this side of the pit. She goes where we go, even if rear guard or to anchor base. Train and learn, medical or combat areas included. Time to face her fears and end this running from the past," Jazz stated, crossing both arms over his chest plates.

"And if she refuses lad?" Kup asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He had trained thousands of bots over his long life, from the Elite Guard to the main army and recognized what was not being said.

"Deal with that when it comes. And I need to retrieve something out of Wheeljack's lab. Hot Rod has first Solspark duty since he's in med bay with her until this afternoon." Rising, he strode out of the room, missing the Wreckers exchanging a head nod.

"Wheeljack's lab? Most dangerous place around here if I remember rightly," Springer stated.

"Unless valuable or in safe keeping," Kup reasoned. "We need reconnaissance."

Back in their temporary quarters the Wreckers began taking the problem apart. "Agreement is they are partners, but new to the relationship. Her past is hidden and locked with the highest encryptions by Optimus Prime and his second Prowl. Solspark is new to the special ops team and lacking in every area of spying and diplomacy, allowed to recover outside of med bay, apparently the exception to Ratchet's rule," Springer summarized to Ultra Magnus over their encrypted comm line.

"Since her arrival Solspark kept to herself, basic rank and no command attributes. No close friends though generally well liked. She risked everything to save another rather than escape clear, displayed unparallel strength in signals. Medical records are locked down but nothing in her frame indicates special boosting," Arcee added.

"And local gossip?"

"More betting on when Jazz will dump her as he is known for partner changing. Other bets are she will hit him up alongside the head with a cybo pan and leave. Consensus is they are mismatched and won't last, evidence by their personality differences," Kup said.

"Until the obstacle course, I never even heard of her. Actions showed creative processing without full planning. A definite lack of command level experience but she has overseen a smaller team. Their argument following her parts upgrade half the Ark probably heard. She referenced a trust issue tied to her armor scar overlay but no details and her files are incomplete that I could access as Commander. The berth hopping was a cover for Jazz, an excuse for his spying time. Optimus mentioned it to me once," Magnus pronounced.

"Did Optimus mention anything else relevant?"

"No. For now observe and learn what we can and keep Hot Rod in the loop. She has a fondness for him."

"Did you just use the word fondness and Hot Rod in the same sentence with a femme?" Springer quizzed, exchanging a startled look with Kup. The ancient mech shrugged, making a processor note to watch how the two younglings interacted when together.

"Fondness like a spark sibling. Though I am not sure who would be the worse influence at this point," Magnus admitted.

"That is dangerous," Kup rolled his optics.

"I have surgery scheduled for the rest of the day and will be unavailable. Solspark and Hot Rod are released to light duty out of med bay, Arcee can chaperon. Springer has command, Kup secondary. Magnus out."

**Ark First Floor – Command Offices **

"What brings you to my office?" Prowl prompted, realizing Jazz was idling in his doorway.

"Admiring the view?" Jazz quipped, walking in to lean on the spare chair.

"Anytime you want my job you may have it," Prowl answered, smiling. The neatness of the room never ceased to intrigue Jazz. Confiscated items intermixed with data pads and endless copies of human reports all stacked, categorized and kept the appearance of being orderly. The Autobot spy could lay out five things and make a room look trashed, or so he often joked. The mess inside his personal quarters did not bear processing, carrying over to the transform out of his alt mode and items falling out onto the ground, unorganized.

"Larger office yes, the responsibility of strategizing and helping pull off Prime's miracles, not so much."

Prowl raised an optic arch, wing doors rising a little as he recognized the reason behind the visit with the word use of strategizing. "You need guidance?"

Jazz spun the chair wildly flipping his frame neatly into it, stopping the spin facing forward while reclining, one foot in the air to cross over the other. "This looks like a good place to kick it. Need counsel on my recruit."

"You are concerned with training her breaking your relationship," Prowl stated, calculating the problem and being blunt. "Jazz, she loves you. There is little you could do statistically to change that within her. There will be rough times for both sides. She will need you to be a guide as the hardest challenges will be within her own spark. She was a combat medic, fighting through enemy lines to reach wounded and knows how to fight. Her time hiding has left her unsure of her own motivations and actions, even without the influence of the Matrix she carries. The training cycles will be pushing herself to the limit or wanting to do nothing at all."

"Most my team has to be restrained from being gung ho. How do I motivate the opposite?"

"Straight forward approach. She will hate feeling restricted at times and you will wonder on her strength when she seeks solitude to deal with own issues. You are not the type to dwell in negative emotions. You need to pull her into your calm, or you will see a darker side of her when or if situations turn bad," Prowl warned.

"Like her fit in med bay over the upgrades? She flinched from me. Blew that calm out the trunk hatch," he admitted.

"Confrontation and arguing is not her way. She pulled away from the tone and emotion in med bay, not from you. Her judgment was harder on herself for letting you down than your words. Statistically the upgrades will benefit her and in time, she will seek out parts additions on her own, though small adjustments. There are times she will need help and never ask. It will be easy to misunderstand her motivations or her apparent indifference,' Prowl explained.

"Sounds like your personality. And I've been improving that for vorns," Jazz smiled, straightening in the chair.

"We both can benefit for your ability to adapt with the unexpected. In time, she will seek me out for advice on you and her own struggles. Odd are favorable for you becoming spark mates. And yes, I will help you organize your music collection in the new quarters when construction is finished," Prowl added, transmitting the information without relaying everything calculated, the time not yet appropriate for certain reveals on her and their potential relationship.

"Always one step ahead of me ain't ya?"

"As a strategist my function is to identify areas for improvement."

"How about improving the twins? Getting tired of their pranks." Their latest mischief had included stealing needed parts from Wheeljack's lab, the Matrix inside for refitting and ignored unrecognized. Too close a call to its discovery for Jazz when he had caught them upon his return.

"Strategist Jazz, not miracle worker. And the office is yours. You are approximately one point four days behind on reports and official logs plus this orns budget proposals. Once Solspark and Hot Rod are released from med bay your availability will be severely limited. Use this time well." And Prowl closed his data pads and walked out.

::What is a flash mob again?:: Arce asked, her pink and white alt mode rolling down I-84. Her holographic driver sat behind the wheel, hair never moving in the gorge wind. The blond hair woman wearing a business suit a copy of the first human she had seen online. An alteration of the eyes to her optic blue and the hair longer created to alter the image of Reese Witherspoon. Not even Prowl had been able to convince her to pick a different image, the femme falling in love with the pink suit the human wore in a movie matching the preexisting color of her armor.

::It is a large public gathering at which humans perform a choreographed dance and then disperse, typically organized by social media. Found it by accident, or destiny. Perfect for our latest armor repairs. Solspark's aim with her new throwing knives is getting better. And she loved her new sword that looks like Prime's. Quite the surprise to us both when it subspaced out and nearly took my leg off. Let's try a less dangerous test: He answered Arcee before adding Solspark to the channel.

::Officially we are on light duty and going for a light drive around the area and will happen upon a flash mob:: Hot Rod explained, his alt mode drawing the most attention with its flashy colors and hood super charger, the windows darkened to skirt the use of a holographic driver.

::It's not against rules here on earth, Jazz and Blaster have participated in several for charity. And this is for children, youngling age:: Solspark added, trailing them at a distance, keeping alert for Decepticons. Her silver blue Bugatti Veyron mostly unrecognized, the price more than most could even consider, her windows also darkened.

::Why does it say senior? I have temporary gear cogs older than any inhabitant on this planet:: Arcee countered, racing around a large semi.

::High school seniors. Their final year of basic school and it's a human tradition:: Hot Rod explained, the most into earth culture since his arrival. Kup blamed his youth, Springer didn't complain if it kept him out of trouble and Jazz encouraged social media all he could off duty, always finding new music online.

The three Transformers pulled into the Hood River waterfront park, taking spots near the back of the parking lot, scans confirming local youth waiting in cars matching their online images. At exactly the evening time set, they transformed up, startling the students moving into position.

"Mind if we join? We saw your posts and know the steps," Hot Rod asked, bending over low and keeping his vocals soft.

The scattered agreements ranged from yes to omg to rad. Hot Rod took center position back row, Arcee on his right, Solspark on his left. Their heads-up display showed each choregraphed move, timed to a specific beat of the music. And it began. "_I Wanna Dance With Somebody_" played over the park speakers, boosted and amplified by Hot Rod as a surprise.

The group of forty plus Hood River Valley students and three Autobots danced to the music, feet moving and arms swinging in near perfect unison. The main chorus Hot Rod paired with Arcee, spinning and twirling the femme leaving Solspark moving but unpartnered. She balanced on her heel plates, arching her back and getting into the rhythm. Head up, hand out like she was singing into a microphone, copying the other unpartnered girls. "_I wanna feel the heat…_" Her hip cogs more flexible for bending and reaching over patients, she matched the teenage girls gyration and swinging motions. Finishing the routine, they broke apart cheering.

"It will trend," Hot Rod laughed, bumping shoulders with Arcee. The smaller femme bumped back harder, their armor clanging with the force but not moving him.

"Hah! So few students probably never make it past the next breem cycle."

"Bet it does," he challenged, transforming down to let the humans post selfies with his alt mode.

"Does not."

::It will hit over two hundred thousand hits by end of the week:: Hot Rod sent over the comms, ignoring the teenager draping herself across his hood, rubbing at his armor.

"Only if you cheat and post about it," Arcee snarked.

::Not a word from me and I do not cheat:: Hot Rod's tone sounding like he was offended. His hood tilted, sliding the teenager off before he backed up, fuel injector roaring to life. Self-repair nanites erased her lipstick kisses from his armor at his command, the foreign substance unwanted.

"If it hits fifty thousand you can help me pick my next upgrade. One hundred thousand and you can help install it," Solspark challenged back, having done her own research. She was not about to transform down and have any of them touching her. Of more interest were the online Transformer fan clubs for both factions. Though why anyone would approve of a Decepticon as worthy to exult or follow baffled her. Optimus as Prime had the largest fan club, with the various Autobots ranked behind him. Jazz's club added one more, her new online name Laura of Kaon allowing her to see the photos of him in action around the earth before her arrival. Some were obvious photoshop alterations or not him but his IMSA GT Porsche 935 Turbo mode. The fan stories had her shutting down the link rapidly. The written detailing of him as a devoted lover tingling her spark even as the physical descriptions had her laughing, medically knowing every Transformer alteration and no mech had those part configurations.

COMMAND CALL. ARCEE MEET WITH SPRINGER FOR RECON BY VISTA HOUSE. HOT ROD AND SOLSPARK RETURN TO ARK IMMEDIATELY. ACTING SIC JAZZ

"Party is over." Arcee noted, transforming and racing back towards the freeway.

::Ready?:: Hot Rod backed over the grass, sliding and spinning back towards the park entrance.

Waving goodbye to the human girls near her, Solspark ran two steps, flipping up in the air over the grass transforming to land in her alt mode on the asphalt area and slid alongside Hot Rod.::Next time, no tracks on the green. Park Rangers do not like our tread marks left behind::

The drive back towards the Ark had them passing a few cars, several reminders from her to Hot Rod about speed limits and human traffics laws on the two-lane road.

COMMAND CALL. ALL UNITS STAGE CLEAR. POSSIBLE DECEPTICON INCURSION AT ARK. AWAIT CLEAR CODE. ACTING COMMANDER PROWL.

::Did you get the message?:: Hot Rod slowed, pulling over the white fog line to stop on the road for human traffic to pass.

::Stand by as the Ark defenses are reset following another Decepticon cassette incursion probably? Or another panic glitch by Red Alert that is false alarm. Yes:: Solspark echoed, mapping the nearest park area. ::Follow me. We can stage in the park up the road and move in our bi pedal modes. No tracking our comm signals::

"Cons raid us, we Wreckers blow their base and it goes back and forth. Nothing to fear Sols," he reassured, placing one arm under his head lounging on the hillside. The Park's far gate preventing human traffic into the campground for repairs was simply stepped over by them. Now they waited on a hillside, the forest trees providing cover.

"I fear most things medical, not Decepticons."

"Do you know what the opposite of fear is? Not always courage. It can be curiosity. A strong desire to know or learn something. Have you tried learning more medical? Maybe a repair class?" He asked, waving at her to sit by him and relax.

"I earned my field status for combat medical support and actually studied for my medical officer certification during my early career. I met a Prime and everything changed. I do still know full field procedures and repairs," she admitted, staring off into the sky.

"Then what is the problem?" He leaned up, intrigued she knew that branch of learning also.

"More a who than a what. I was badly injured and instead of repairs, I was attacked and broken," she half explained.

"You survived. It was never about how much you could handle before being broken. It's how much you can handle after being broken. Do you know what a kaleidoscope is?"

"Human toy. I saw it on the kids tool log for when they visit," she answered, not sure why the change in subject.

"It is a tube filled with broken parts. When you look at it and move it, you see something beautiful. I see a beautiful femme online and helping others. With one flaw. The scar overlay on your armor."

"It's to remember that event and others," she said, for the first time feeling uneasy explaining had discussed it earlier in med bay and now it seemed more like whining than an explanation.

"You can look at a scar and see hurt. Or you can look at a scar and see healing. If the event is that traumatic, why carry an outside reminder now? Healing doesn't mean the damage never existed. It means the damage no longer controls our lives. Stop looking back, there is nothing there but the injury. Healing is a forward action. Forgive yourself for not knowing then what you do now."

"I never processed it that way," she admitted. Had she really need it as a reminder or like a shield to block her from reaching out to others? From growing?

"Things happen in the universe that are not fair. This war, our losses and more. They will affect me, but they will never lessen me or my desire for adventure. What?" He noticed her staring.

"You sound like Optimus. The inherent wisdom of a Prime," she laid out on the ground, watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon.

"Hah! You know nothing of Primes then. Though Kup says I'm a prime pain in the aft sometimes," he chuckled.

"It did help my life in one way," she murmured. "I traded Jazz the secret of it. That's how we met."

"Then replace it with something better if it has served its purpose," he encouraged.

"I will. Would you remove it and help me change it out?"

"Me? Why not Jazz?" He hesitated, not wanting to step into a personal area after the morning argument.

"I told him any future upgrades would be my choice, not his."

"Okay then. Be my honor and the bet is still separate. At least one hundred thousand likes or hits and I pick your next upgrade."

COMMAND CALL. SITUATION CONTAINED. ARK ENTRY CLEAR CODE. ACTING COMMANDER PROWL

"Do the earth bots use codes for everything? Our Wrecker base is either standing, under attack or wiped flat. Pretty easy to spot the difference," Hot Rod noted.

"Did you read the list of Prowl's rules? If an Autobot do not do the following?"

"Rules? I processed they were more guidelines than actual rules and no. Saving them for later. Why?" Hot Rod answered.

Back at the Ark, doors unsealed with the all clear. Jazz checked on Med Bay, Ratchet and his patients locked inside automatically. He noticed the large medical cabinet braced in front of the hidden door, various glass and metal containers on top. "Why not bolt a crash bar across it? Laser alarms? Or the crash when Optimus collides with it to warn all?" Jazz teased.

"Prime can step over it, Magnus too. Smaller frames not so much," Ratchet teased back.

"Now why would Cliffjumper or Huffer need it?" Jazz pretended to ponder the question. Their running witticism on frame size enhancements, Jazz always denying the medic's suggestions. A subroutine reminder popped up to research why Solspark was sensitive on any mention to her frame. Even without battle upgrades, most bots had multiple transforms and frame adjustments, Optimus holding the Ark's record.

Moving towards the nearest access console Jazz unlocked Solspark's official medical records, the short file on transforms displaying three entries. The second one after the encounter from Prime Axial. Jazz paused, unfamiliar with the medical coding. "Ratch, what is medical code FC 19 – 1101?"

"Complete transform and frame downgrade. Locked at the highest level and an ancient code. Why? If you want that, insult Starscream's trine on their wing colors and they will do it for you. Scrape up and reformat what is left matches FC 19-1101."

"Asking for a friend," he countered.

"What is the precursor code?"

"The what?"

"1101 is a downgrade for safety or enforced per need. The previous upgrade an issue per its code. Frame instability is 0505. Weakened spark is 0321. What's the code?"

"There is no code," Jazz answered, sending the file copy with Solspark's name and designation removed.

"Who the frag messed with this official file? Three codes? Standard full frame, downgrade and current transform? There are entries missing, as CMO I can access the metadata embedded in the file and its been scrambled. At least five entries are missing. This is not familiar, is it Solspark's?"

"Affirmative. She frosted the room when I mentioned upgrading her frame, so I wanted a peek at the file. Neither of us touched it. This is the encrypted transfer from her last posting," Jazz countered, upgrading Ratchet on being able to read embedded code. Medical files were one area Jazz or any of his team would not mess with other than erasing their existence, the data necessary for future repairs.

"Alpha Trion did. His official seal is the last code on the middle entry. When Solspark was recognized as a Prime, he would have direct access to her and her medical files. Without Optimus approval I cannot unlock or search her core coding for any reason other than a complete processing crash," Ratchet stated, the warning implied.

"Alpha Trion can do no wrong by Optimus. Never get that approval. I can get her to tell me in time if she knows or remembers."

"Any other questions send to my holding file. I have surgery to attend to," Ratchet reminded, moving to stand beside Ultra Magnus on the far medical berth.

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7 Running and remember

Jazz watched the video, his jaw gear dropped and optic visor up. Granted, the human video of their best quality a half-geared seeker on high grade could discern but he wanted to see every detail. Solspark danced and arched, the movements matching the pulsing beat of the song. A tingling went through his spark, seeing her in his favorite passion of music and enjoying it.

::Prowl to Jazz:: The low priority request carrying a video tag attachment popped up on his personal comm line.

::Watching it now:: Jazz answered, already anticipating. Both mechs as command had a sub routine set to alert when new Transformer stories or items trended, once discovering Starscream's fuel raids as they happened thanks to an environmental group filming geese nests.

::Authorized?:: Prowl asked, his tone indicating he knew the answer but an official requirement to document.

::Not by me. Not against the rules, for charity and public relations reasons. And I guarantee it was never her processing to start with:: Jazz reminded.

::Agreed. Her identity remains unknown, the random fan clubs listing her as party dancing femme:: Prowl noted, the disapproval tone in his vocals clear. Not over her having human attention but the humans continual disrespect to their age and wisdom using adjectives like party, rolling or hot bot.

::Video has over forty-eight thousand views and building. More than the crash video of Cliffjumper into Ironhide's rear bumper last year:: Jazz noted, taking multiple screenshots to store in his personal processor.

::Estimated to reach approximately three hundred thousand eight hundred plus views before being replaced by kitten or an actress meltdown video. Please remind Solspark the rules on social media activities :: Prowl

::You process she will do more of these?:: Jazz speculated, wanting to dance with her.

::No. But a denial of requests will sound official and not personal when she quotes the rules. Command clear:: Prowl

Cross posting the video to his Transformer fan club Jazz made one surprising discovery. A new member with a Cybertron city designation of Kaon. His spark city, destroyed by Megatron even as its inhabitants were enslaved, promised freedom out of the gladiator pits to be forced into the Decepticon army. Tracking the sign on brought another surprise. 'Solspark? That is her profile, her holograhic driver next to her alt mode. Why Kaon?' he processed then realized her file didn't include her sire city or clan. 'One more thing to trade or discover,' he chuckled, sending her a welcome from the club Treasurer funbot4Jazz, himself.

Arriving at the Ark Hot Rod took the teasing good naturedly from the other mechs over the video. Few made any comments to Solspark, respecting her as a femme and a hero rescuer of Bluestreak.

The wash racks followed by an energon top off were prioritized before Solspark checked the video upload numbers, not expecting to find it anywhere but ignored. 'Are you glitching serious?' Fifty-nine thousand? Primus, what is Hot Rod going to pick for my upgrade? Then again, it couldn't be any worse than the bolo lasso from Hound. Must make a note to ask him why physical, and not an energy version. Deal with it tomorrow.'

The morning alarm screamed, her arm flailing to hit it. The screaming sound of her alarm matched the Ark's trouble alarm, annoying but necessary to reach her deepest recharge. The sound stopped, followed by the oddest metallic sound as though two sharped edges objects were scraping together, as her optics snapped open with new protocols. She saw one of her static daggers impaled through the small device, locking it into the wall 'Scrap! That would have damaged the mural in our other rooms.'

"The weapon protocols reacted to your negative emotions towards the alarm. Need to set recharge locks by a nano second," Jazz commented dryly, standing alongside with energon in hand.

"Hmm, if I loved it would I wake up to it wrapped in my arms by my spark, purring?" She teased, accepting the energon.

"Depends on what it is and how much you loved it for it to purr back," Jazz teased back, folding his arms and looking smug as her fans kicked up several notches.

"I only have space for one thing next to my spark."

"The Matrix of Peace."

"Your spark," she corrected before full processing, drinking down the remaining energon. Leaning back to drain the cube, she missed his huge smile and his fans kicking up slightly. "What is today's training lesson?"

"Survival. No mission is worth your life, the ultimate failure is not completing a job but offlining while doing it. Monitoring by Decepticons using their own gear or ours or humans always poses a threat. You can be discovered and tracked remotely to never know it. Extract a data cube, stay hidden and return to base online and functioning. Hot Rod is an assigned watcher, Arcee with me in the command center to brush up her Teletran skills with the Wreckers and Dinobots playing 'cause they be needing the practice," Jazz briefed.

Solspark nodded, recognizing his slang use meant the drill had hidden surprise or two. And her new tech could surprise back, once she figured how to control it. A quick check on the internet surprised her, the video now at over one hundred thousand views and hits. 'I am so slagged.' Six hours later she owed Hound an apology, after surviving the training.

::Would you stop wriggling! You are worse than a first framer. They will hear us! Earth rock on metal creates sound pings:: Solspark reminded, glaring sidelong at the mech holding her tightly from behind. Both of Hot Rod's arms wrapped around her mid frame, above her hips but below her chest plates. Lying together, his feet crossing over being taller and the opposite way his head nestled above hers. The wide wing arch on his back rested flat against the rock, keeping them stable on their sides. Besides Jazz, he was the only mech she would have trusted that close without receiving weapons fire from her. 'I swear he is like a spark twin, thoroughly annoying and always there.'

::Sorry. Your energy patterns are tingling my system and I can't block it:: Hot Rod answered, half his systems disabled to prevent noise and tracking by his fellow Wreckers, including sensor shielding as a collateral effect.

::Powering this large a hologram is not easy for this long. Even at half systems, I had to reboot backups I haven't used since second frame, could have had any major glitch in files that old archived besides the two minor I had to banish. A little tingling you can survive. And you can thank Jazz for the suggestion. No bot pays attention to the floor, or ground in this case:: Solspark answered, digitally checking the edges. Mixing into the cracked rock face, they appeared part of the debris at the cliff base via hologram. In the meadow nearby, the Dinobots wandered around still trying to track them as part of the drill. The sun directly overhead prevented shadows to betray them or requiring her to extend the hologram area to move as the shadows moved.

::Now this is a good plan. No ion cannons, collision impacts or damage. Are they ever going to give up? I can't take this much longer:: Hot Rod said, shifting again.

"Any sign?" Springer's transmission monitored, hacked and heard by them both. Hot Rod knowing every Wrecker frequency and encryption they could use, hers the ability to boost and listen in, even if she didn't tell him how she could do it. Why the Matrix helped this time she had no idea but was grateful it kept them from being discovered as her strength increased. Locked under her chest plates, it blazed in strength as the day Prime Axial had transferred it, without outward effects for which she was grateful. The transform would not have been explainable or controllable.

"Negative," Kup answered. "Crazy rocks disrupt signals. They must have gone beyond the boundaries. Blurr is on it. I'm sending the Dinobots to the east side. You take west. We must find them. This reminds me of the Altair mission. There I was, tracking a robo beast through the far mountain ridges."

::Our cue to go:: Hot Rod sent.

::Not yet!:: Solspark corrected quickly. ::Incoming! Above us!::

Swoop soared above them, his wings outstretched as the metal flyer hovered to check for movement below. His beak opened in a relaxed way, the wind whistling across his metal wing plates as he continued diving and rising.

::Dinobots. Perpetuating the myth that Pterodactyl are dinosaurs:: Hot Rod watched, marveling at the deadly length of the metal talons visible even at that distance.

::They are not the same?:: Solspark.

::Pterodactyl is a flying reptile:: Hot Rod stated.

::That certainly clears things up. Not really:: Solspark answered.

Swoop dove to skim the cliff edge before soaring high towards the east, the displaced air from his wings creating a small slide of tumbling rocks. The rocks fell through the hologram, pinging off their armor as Hot Rod shifted over her deflecting and protecting. The hologram fizzed as she lost concentration before shifting to reform perfectly, never noticed by the aerial flyer. Zipping across the sky, Swoop moved beyond sensor range.

::That was close. Looks clear finally:: Hot Rod sent, as the energy tingling increased. Moving one hand, he slid it up the armor above her spark, intending to tap higher on her shoulder to signal leaving. Power washed over him at the contact, a presence recognizing and accepting Hot Rod as it searched the intents of what he would do and could do like a crashing energy wave he could not resist.

Solspark vented deeply, her hand over Hot Rod's above her spark. She felt the Matrix humming approval before sealing close, recognizing Hot Rod as it had her. His destiny different, waiting. She focused, filling her processors with memories of Jazz laughing, his touch when he was reassuring her, and even his anger; an anchor against the dark memories triggered within her by the Matrix.

"Jazz? Cybertron to Jazz?" Arcee repeated, waving her hand by his visor. His white paint reflecting her pink armor as she moved closer to confirm his visor dark, his frame unmoving inside the Ark command enter. His hand rocketed up, grabbing hers and locking down around it, possessing. Bracing, Arcee twisted trying to break the hold and flip him away from Teletran One in a combat move. He never flexed but spoke one word.

"Solspark."

"She is not here. I am Arcee, a friend. Jazz let me go. That is an order, or I will make you let go," Arcee stated calmly, trapped in his hand. Her long sword slid into her other palm, deadly and waiting. Unpowered, it remained a honed blade that could dent his armor, without taking his arm off. The command center otherwise empty, Arcee was hesitant to call for help for the other Wreckers. 'He's capable of hearing any transmissions, even encoded. Do this the old-fashioned way,' she processed, inching the sword higher. Abruptly he released her, ducking his head as though taking a hit.

"Solspark?"

"In the field, we are trying to find her and Hot Rod. Your exercise on keeping hid after their online video posted. Your orders Commander," Arcee stated while backing away rapidly, the sword replaced with blasters appearing on both arms. The sheer blazing power of his visor startling her matching the strength in his grip.

"Arcee? Why are you armed?"

"You grabbed me while zoned and wouldn't let go." Arcee rotated her arm, the pressure marks faintly etched in the metal from his grip.

"I did? Felt like I was needed elsewhere," he muttered, scanning the monitor display. "Time to change tactics. Dinobots fall back and Wreckers regroup by the Ark entrance. Let them come to us."

Solspark ran to the tree line, watching Hot Rod half stumbling behind her as he reset. The path ahead empty as expected, her entire focus on reaching the goal line had her taking off sprinting, Hot Rod could catch up. She slammed into air as though a hitting wall, topping over as unfamiliar touches moved across her frame. Pinned down by weight, Solspark reacted grabbing and twisting at the invisible touch by her midriff to have Mirage solidifying before her with a cry of pain.

"I'm sorry," she yelped, instantly letting go of his arm. "You were invisible."

"And your signals masked and my attention forward," he grumped, easing out to the side away from her. "You should have not been able to hit me, slipping inside my range. Jazz trained you well in that gentle femme." He smiled, disappearing.

'Not yet,' she processed, realizing dormant stealth systems were active. A gift from her favorite Combat Captain, the unique overlay allowing her movements hidden from any other bot for short durations on retrieval runs even as it drained her energon rapidly. Once detected, it was worthless as any scanner could lock onto its next use. But why had it triggered now? Her protocol reset or an unarchived file conversion missed?

"Sols, or should I say Alice? You had an encounter with a Cheshire cat. You better stick close to me," Hot Rod teased, helping her up when Solspark tackled him as Springer's rocket struck, glitter exploding everywhere. Radioactive tagged and tiny the glitter particles would stick to any surface and be trackable even on Mirage or Hound. The green helicopter roared past, climbing into a tight loop before circling back. "That is the last time he works with Bumblebee and human younglings," Hot Rod snapped, his leg plates glam red and white sparkle.

"No, you better stick close to me," She teased, sending a low-level pulse to neutralize the radioactive tagging on them both. Demagnetized as well, the glitter slid off as he shook his leg, Solspark containing her laugh as he resembled a dog shaking itself dry.

"You are full of tricks aren't you?"

"Experience. 'Cons tried a variation outside of the Vos ruins," she explained, searching for Springer on her tracking. The seeker like signal triggering a layered response mixed with data files, now unarchived and active. The need to hunt and take down her prey surged across field programming to dominate. Springer's airborne signal disappeared, Solspark rapidly flipping her systems to ground knowing he was a triple changer with a surface rover mode. He would not escape.

"Vos?"

"One of the first five cities destroyed by Megatron. Vos, Tarn, Helex, Kaon and Tesarus." Anger ran through her, the pain remembered at their destruction. She missed Hot Rod narrowing his optics at her tone or the shifting of her optic color. Her long sword dropped into her palm, the blade tip curving with her emotions.

The green armored vehicle raced around the trees, accelerating directly towards them on the open road. Running at Springer, Solspark retracted her sword, changing to three balls on a coiled chain as systems calculated his favorite attack style. Neither changed course, closing the distance rapidly towards each other. "Engage!"

Springer transformed, the thrusting power of his legs combining with his retro thrusters for height. Her aim sure, the bolo soared up to wrap around his blade base, trapping his upper body as the glitter pack hit her, showering over her armor. Flailing up and over, the warrior mech struggled with his arms pinned and unable to transform falling head first.

A blur of red and gold flashed across her vision as she spun on her feet pads with her sword out to finish. The stun blast flashed too quick for her to block, sending Solspark falling backwards tingling. Nearby Hot Rod crouched, Springer caught safely in his arms before laying the fellow Wrecker on the ground with Springer's greater weight nearly collapsing them both.

"Cut me loose!" Springer commanded, struggling on the ground. "Where are you going?"

"Blast was quarter power, should not have knocked Sols down," Hot Rod yelled back, scanning her medically with his visor down. "What is with her energy overlays?" The patterns scrambled and distantly familiar before fading away.

Her optics snapped open, bright blue and focusing on him. "Sols are you?"

Metal clanged as her fist impacted across his jawline. The punch knocking him sideways, her attack an auto defense triggered by Special Operations coding, weapons blocked by her own coding protective of him. "Oh scrap," Solspark stammered, orientating to sit up.

"Ah, youngling love," Kup smiled, cutting Springer loose. The aged warrior approved of Solspark the more they saw her reactions, not Wrecker level but good.

"What is her problem? Mood swing?" Hot Rod shook his head before clambering onto his feet pads and off chasing her, the femme running all out to cross the finish line.

"Swing? They bounce, pivot, recoil, rebound, oscillate, fluctuate and occasionally pirouette lad. That's what makes a femme worth having around, if you can keep up," Kup yelled after him chuckling.

The post brief occurred in Prowls office, the room borrowed and secure from monitoring, Arcee standing by the Wreckers with her wrist a subject of concern and ribbing. "I could not shift Jazz. He should have flipped backwards and released me."

"You sure you used proper technique?" Kup suggested, pantomiming the motion.

"Yes. Its like he was magnetized to the floor, but he wasn't. I scanned and his systems were barely functioning. "

"Could Jazz and Solspark be fully spark mated? And they didn't say?" Springer suggested.

"Why?" Ultra Magnus asked, not seeing the relevance.

"Sounds like he felt Solspark somehow. Zoned out and ran on basic coding. Classified Arcee as a friendly threat, hold without harming."

"Possible. Mated pairs know when the other is in danger or need. Elita One called to Optimus on a whole different world once in her distress," Magnus explained.

"I never heard that," Kup admitted, intrigued on missing a story.

"And you still didn't, not from me." Ultra Magnus stated, crossing his arms and straightening full height inches from the ceiling, the chest temporary paneling protecting the half-repaired damage unpainted and obvious.

"Solspark was fighting, not in distress. Hot Rod and she made it almost back to the start line when the Dinobots spotted them," Springer reminded.

"Ran them over you mean. Hot Rod is still getting dents pounded out of his armor from Grimlock and her punching him, poor lad," Kup chuckled.

"Newly spark mated they would not have these fights right?" Arcee asked.

"Hah! Ironhide and Chromia had their first fight the night they sparked. Ended up in med bay the next morning," Kup countered before they turned back to the couple of interest standing on either side of Prowl's desk, their arguing continuing back and forth.

"No bot caught us!" Solspark stated, slamming one hand on front of the desktop.

"The Dinobots did. The mission brief was to stay hidden, extract the data cube and return to base. Which you failed to even achieve half of," Jazz countered, staying calm and professionally externally. His frustration on her arguing and missing the point of escape being critical to survive any mission overlooked again irritating him. Was she even really trying?

"This cube?" Solspark snapped open her other hand, the multi-faceted shape flashing. "We were hidden! What was your first question? How were we not seen sooner? Next time I will blast Grimlock, a designated friendly who should have been on our side! Everything else we did as specified sir." She sat the cube down on the desk, spinning to release the information to prove it was the required one.

"You retrieved the cube. What do you want? A medal?"

"I have several already. Stored in a box," she countered.

"Plans change. You trusted appearances that Grimlock seemed friendly, waving you both across the finish line before attacking. You of all bots should," he stopped. The char mark on her shoulder armor was gone and replaced with the bright red symbol of the Autobot faction, the longer tapered jawline for Special Operations. How had he missed that in the earlier rules briefing? Her energy signature overlaid with faint Matrix energy and an offbeat pattern to her normal systems cycling an indication of her hard running, an indicator she had gone all out to win. Again.

"Take your judgment and up shift it Commander," Solspark leaned forward, her optics filtering with red as he hesitated, hurt by his realization the symbol was missing and unnoticed until then. "Mission parameters were achieved when I crossed the finish line with the data. Hot Rod was not in those orders as a designated watcher. I was as Operations. Mirage could not stop me nor Springer. I did exactly as ordered this time. Dismissed?"

"Dismissed."

"And that is why I am single," Arcee chuckled while following Solspark out, temporarily assigned to team with her until Hot Rod returned.

"I should be ashamed of my behavior. Let's be clear, I'm not," Solspark stated to Arcee, both walking down the hallway towards the lift. Her systems ran hot, cooling fans slowly adjusting more with her emotional strain than physical demands. Activating old coding left her scrambling for modern locks, the Matrix memories interlacing to add anger she could not explain. Then the surprise attack had triggered her instincts to protect Hot Rod, crossing back across the finish line ready to flatten the Dinobots before they abruptly released him. Battle protocols ready and unused matched with the post brief left her irritable.

"Training can be stirring," Arcee chided, liking the hot temper she was seeing in the other femme as the lift moved between floors. "You would make a good Wrecker. We challenge command all the time."

"The challenge is I am trying my best. I don't have to win. I would settle for Jazz liking my trying," She followed Arcee off the lift and into the Wreckers temporary quarters, needing to unwind. A faint cyber headache added to her irritation, code conflicts banished to a holding file until she could figure out the issue.

"Some bots will only like you if you fit inside their parameters design. Don't be afraid to take that design and shove it up their aft," Arcee advised, opening a hidden panel and handing her a purple energon cube.

"High grade?"

"More potent refueling, Wrecker style."

"I make bad decisions on high grade, or at least the once and tend to avoid ever since," Solspark admitted, leaning against the counter edge.

"Not to brag," Arcee chugged hers, not spilling a drop with her speed. "I can make bad decisions without high grade."

_To be continued…_

_Author's notes: Multiple historical references. Megatron did destroy the five cities and enslave Kaon. Transformers canon though ancient history. In Transformers Move 1985 on Lookout Mountain Hot Rod engages a special scanning visor to see the shuttle. Jazz's race car number is 4. fun bot 4 Jazz. In bayverse movies, Optimus sword tip changes depending on the fight, guessing its per his emotions. Elita called to Optimus on a different world is mentioned in my fic If an Autobot do not do the following and another TF fic, A Loss of essence by fantasyaddict101. Until all are one. _


	8. Chapter 8 Passion and Parting ways

"Any high grade left for me?" Hot Rod stood in the doorway of the Wreckers temporary quarters.

"Sorry, femmes only," Arcee rejoined.

"One more injury and Ratchet will take care of that for me or at least he threatened to," Hot Rod teased before hobbling into the room, careful to not overstress his leg repairs. Arcee grimaced, not over his pain or injuries but imaging the chewing out Ratchet had given the red and yellow armored mech on avoidable injuries.

"I am sorry I didn't take Grimlock down," Solspark apologized, handing her high grade over then retrieving two more for him. The femme blamed herself for his injury. The Matrix flare had slowed him down, its energy interfering with his battle protocols. And in her focus to cross the finish line, she had left Hot Rod behind to be attacked instead of being a teammate to protect.

"You're kidding right?" He answered, chugging down the first cube. "The immensely strong, fearsome and powerful Dinobot? Swinging me upside down by my leg and throwing me like a chew toy in his jaws T-rex Dinobot?"

"And the only Dinobot whose name does not begin with a S," Arcee chided, watching the other femme intently. Guilt flashed across her expressive features, rapidly hidden. Arcee filed it away, there had been a way available and not used.

"You got hurt again because I had to win," Solspark sighed.

"Arcee, can you give us a moment," Hot Rod requested, sending her privately. ::I need to discuss a personal issue::

::You're not falling for her are you? She's challenge sworn to Jazz, confided in me but you should know before doing anything stupid:: Arcee sent, heading for the hallway door, her second cube half drained already.

::No. Mission glitch I need to roll through. Nothing more :: Hot Rod reassured. Once the door slid close, he deliberately stood by the opposite counter, relaxed frame while sipping the high grade. Solspark watched warily, spinning her cube without unsealing it.

"You want an explanation," she began, forestalling as he held up a hand while shaking his head side to side.

"I have one. I hacked a heavily restricted data file once on ways to identify certain spark types. Yours matches Optimus. The tingling energy is his pattern. Meaning?" Hot Rod waited, confident of the answer but wanting her to admit it.

"I was a Prime, once. Long story and not one I want to get into right now."

"You don't have to. Confirming my readings, nothing more. And you might want to watch out who you get close to unshielded. My spark is aligning with that same pattern. A side effect that should wear off soon or I will have some awkward explaining to do in the future." He missed her sheepish expression, chucking the empty cubes to slide the outer door open. "Arcee, where is the second stash?"

"Right next to the third and fourth ones," she snorted, gesturing to the far storage rack. "You want some relationship advice femme?"

"No."

"Good. I don't have advice, only experience. Do you love Jazz more than you are annoyed by him?"

"I annoy him, more often than not," Solspark admitted.

"All femmes do that," Hot Rod chided, ignoring Arcee's glare his way. He expertly caught the empty cube she threw at him.

"If Jazz is interested, he'll do what is convenient like adding you to fill an empty spot on the team. If he's committed, he'll do whatever it takes to ensure you are happy or at least safe. Magnus and Springer can be over protective, but they also are willing to stand back and let me fight my battles handing me weapons all the way, and help me with the aftermath," Arcee continued.

"I disagree. It's more than weapons," Hot Rod interrupted.

"And you call yourself a Wrecker?" Arcee teased.

"Commitment means accepting no excuses, only results. There are no guarantees when you promise, commitment is what transforms the promise into reality. Or loyalty makes commitment whatever," Hot Rod countered, emptying another cube. "He's a spy. He can't commit to anything, or any bot. His life is lying and destroying. That's what he does. And play music. Really loud. Grimlock should have bit him. Who honestly uses data cube to store plans anymore? What kind of a mission target was that?"

Solspark paused, remembering Jazz's promise to stay with her in med bay. His keeping their trade, letting her see his optics raw and filtered and recharging upright to let her rest alone. His voluntarily hiding the Matrix in the rockfall and keeping her past secret from Optimus and the others he trusted as friends. Actions more than a promise or trade.

Leaving the Wreckers imbibing, Solspark headed downstairs to her temporary quarters. The cyber headache threatened to return in full as messages post brief filtered in. An inquiry from Ratchet on any medical needs. None and no care needed, at least any she was willing to admit to. 'I bet Jazz will know how to sort and handle the old code programming running through me right now. He has probably seen every type of record that exists for our race. I know how to send it or disappear it. Dealing with it, not so much. Time I learned.'

Bumblebee's message was short. He wanted to schedule time to practice her stealth work, hearing she had collided with Mirage. 'Ask Jazz, still learning how. Can do one out of maybe twenty times,' she sent back, stalling.

Wheeljack's request for her professional help on hiding and forwarding signals in trade for anything she needed upgraded or power checked. 'My schedule is pending and data via messages ok for now?' sent back to him. The more she worked with Operations, the more she respected his creativity and learned to exercise caution when testing developing technology.

The last message Prowl requesting official updates on her personnel files, too many gaps in them. She sent her standard reply that they were up to date and needed the rest transferred from previous moon bases or record keepers. If Prowl continued pressing, she would quote his own rule back that personnel information from any bot was inadequate unless back by official records. 'In other words, I am not admitting it and you can't find it. I care more about today."

The loud music, hard beat greeted her as the lift doors opened, the music radiating from Jazz's original room. 'He was supposed to be moving the mural. What song is that?'

'_Journey – Separate ways'_ identified from her online music search, the volume beating against the closed door. The lyrics made her spark ache. A love that would remain when the other partner left, wanting them the best. Ferocity rose up in her. Fury at her own weakness needing help, when she was a healer. Anger at struggling in practice drills and unsure of what to do, the battlefield seeming simpler in her memories with a clear objective. Frustration with herself at seeking him out for answers and realizing she had never asked what Jazz needed or wanted, challenge sworn to be equals. She sent a single message to his command inbox, low priority.

_Challenge or deny. You found me and have been breaking the chains of my own making. I know your life was simpler before I appeared, and probably happier. I can only see it getting more complicated and dangerous. If deny, I understand. You have earned that right. You do not have full knowledge of what a relationship with me could entail or the burdens I carry. You have your own responsibilities without the strain of my secrets. You have treated me with more honor and respect than many in my existence._

The message sent, she refrained from entering either room, needing time to process. Waiting solitude, Solspark began climbing the path out and around the ship's hull at the Ark entrance. More a dirt trail than a path, it wove up and over the engine ports, flattening at the top.

Hours later, Solspark watched the stars wink into existence across the night sky. She was lying flat on her back with major systems nearly at a complete standstill and her optics dim to minimize interfering light. ' I want to be part of our races future, no longer watching it from afar, hiding. No more endless routine and if denied then I leave. Wreckers don't need me, but I could ride back to Cybertron with them, they are not the only fighters left there. Or explore the galaxy, finding our scattered forces. I am free to go locate Paradron and continue my medical skills. I finally have a choice of options and no desire to choose any.' A message code flashed in with high priority status, the return answer from Jazz.

_Challenge. Contact me please upon opening. Direct comm or come find me._

A wave of relief swept through her. ::Solspark to Jazz::

:Hey! Why my mailbox and not to me direct?:: Jazz's comm tone conveying his puzzlement, no trace of earlier frustration.

::You were busy. I didn't want to interrupt you:: Solspark explained trying to keep the emotion out of her tone and failing, wishing he was there physically instead of just hearing his voice.

::Never that busy Sols. I went looking for you and found Arcee and Hot Rod buzzed on high grade. They said you left almost a joor previous, no idea where you went. You seemed upset leaving the post brief:: Jazz explained, not mentioning his exasperation on their failing to keep tabs on her. Then the message disconcerting when he found it in the office system. And the changing of her scar symbol without notice leaving him uncertain of her intents.

::I needed time for processing. I was so busy grieving past losses I was not embracing the life I can have. And the blessing Primus gave me in you:: Solspark said, both apologizing and being brutally honest.

::I have been called many a name in my existence. Blessing is a new one. Where are you?:: Jazz could have found her on the cameras or by tracker if he wanted but her wording choice would reveal more than any map location.

::Hull of the Ark above the far-right engine, looking up at stars:: Solspark answered. The wind picked up rustling in the far trees, scattering the few clouds across the face of the moon.

::Real romantic huh? I know the spot:: Jazz sent.

::Not our world yet earth is beautiful in its own way. I don't know which star is Cybertron:: Solspark sent. A breeze wrapped around her in passing barely felt as she continued star watching.

::I do. On my way. Look to your left, find a sealed box sitting there and open it carefully. Your mission until I arrive:: Jazz sent, his tone mischievous.

::How?:: Solspark sent, sitting up to locate the box. It keyed open to her energy signature. Nestled inside was a crystal square, the center 3-dimensional holograph of the challenge vow wording, their image and the date asked.

::I know you sweet spark. If I gave up that easily, I would never have asked you:: Jazz sent. In the hallway outside the temporary quarters, he handed Blurr the payment credits. "Thanks for the delivery my man. Do it with style or don't do it at all." The other mech raced off, the breeze of displaced air left in his path.

Tucked into subspace, the crystal square making her happier than any reward or medal she could have earned. His blue visor seemed as a guiding light with his approach up the trail before settling alongside her on the ground. Wrapping his arms around her, Jazz could feel her spark, locking the latest edge variant pattern into his systems for instant identifying as she hugged back.

"I don't know what to do but love you as we try to work our relationship out," she admitted, shifting to lay against him, tucked in his arm.

"Neither do I. Prowl calculates highly favorable odds we will be happy spark mated unless," he stroked one arm down her back reassuring and feeling the newer armor edges.

"Unless?"

"We offline each other first," he added, chuckling. "Mech is a realist. And I must ask, what is with your energy overlays? They're frizzier right now than a cyber rat caught in an energon spinner."

"You can see that? Wait, you mentioned enhanced optics."

"Ratchet ain't the only one with multi-layer lenses," Jazz admitted.

"You said the visor was a tactical tool and hid your optic strength. You lied."

"I did not. Not to you. The multi layers are like your Matrix. An added surprise the fewer who know about it the better. The day I showed you I had them locked tight least your matrix flare and give me a cyber headache from the pit. Ratchet has fifteen levels for medical. I have seven for document scanning and precision work, installed before the war began. The outer ring is cracked but I can't repair it without removing the whole optic and all associated controls."

"Ouch. I had to replace an entire limb once for a medical upgrade requirement. Added wiring including a dozen morphing tools is simpler than a specialized optic ring. Took me forever to learn the new controls, perfect for repairs but other times, not so much. I didn't dare use the arm to drink energon or I'd be wearing it or throwing it on a bot next to me."

"Why don't you have it still? Another painful secret?" Jazz hesitated, hoping to get the answer on the mystery.

"Painful yes, not a secret. They even gave me a medal over it. I had to disable a transform cog in a city sized transformer. My rifle was lost, nothing else around to use and I uh, that is."

"You didn't." He winced, picturing what had happened.

"I did. Stuck my arm between the nearest rotational cogs, off lined what pain sensors I could and waited. Needed my legs to flee and my other arm didn't have the reinforced bars. No time to pull off other armor and we were so deep layered no bot could hear me screaming. I saved lives and swore I would always have a hidden carried weapon, one that could not be knocked out of my hand or dropped."

"Sounds like you did it the hard way sweet spark," he hugged her, proud of her strength to wait knowing the damage when the cogs moved.

"What makes you process I saw two choices? I had no time or tools and no help and if he transformed, we lost everything our strike team achieved getting us in there for recusing prisoners."

"I ain't knocking your choices as I am one of them," he reminded her chuckling. Later he would search the archives for a mission reference, always updating her personnel file.

"The best choice. What other surprises of yours do I need to know about?" She teased, wiggling her fingers into a sensitive area between his armor. His gasp and hard venting confirmation of the right spot. 'Thank you Arcee for the lesson on mech mechanics.'

"That's cheating Sols, torturing a poor mech captivated." His hand wrapped around hers, interlacing their fingers.

"In combat, there are no rules. The only unfair fight is the one you lose," Solspark repeated, relaxed he wasn't truly upset. "See? I listen and learned. And try and prove it."

"I can prove many things on you in our rooms," he murmured, a suggestive tone to his words before chuckling at her venting. Her medical training aside, the femme had no personal experiences to draw on and worried it was one more thing to drive Jazz crazy if he didn't know. Other times she figured Jazz knew and allowed the separate bunks for her needs. Most Autobots figured they were mated believing Jazz's cover reputation, Solspark never commenting when rumors were heard. For now, she rested against his shoulder, the night air calming. "Cybertron is that star," he pointed with his free hand, a holographic star map overlay showing the specific one.

"So far away, you can barely see it."

"Sometimes the best things are those right in front of you," Jazz stated, nuzzling helm to helm. Relaxing, they continued star watching until Solspark recharged next to him. 'Like being in the field on a mission,' he reasoned. Unwilling to move her and disturb deep recharging he watched, clearing their location with the night watch then Red Alert and Prowl as each inquired on their being outside after hours. 'What? I have a fan club?' Three more location pings, including one from Bumblebee returning from patrol and Springer also awake and he decided they needed privacy.

"Sols, time to wake up," he tapped her arm until optics opened, staying clear of weapons range as a precaution. 'Like being on a field mission with a really angry Predacon cub nearby.' The look she gave could have melted armor. "Love you too lady bot but we are about to have company if we stay out here much longer. Our beds await."

By morning Solspark was alone in their temporary quarters, the drill schedule clear for one day as Jazz worked on team reports preparing for the Wreckers to return to Cybertron. She should have studied training lessons, or boxing items to help Jazz but her processors kept returning to the online fan club. Jazz's club. Half an hour later and she was the newest member on Prowl's, Ratchet's, Optimus and Bumblebee's cross posted from his. The photos and human news media clips filling her partially in on history during the Autobots earth time. What kept her interest was the fan fiction posted there. Human made, it missed details on their existence that were annoying and yet intriguing in concept.

'Barricade a Decepticon transformer? Battle of the Cops by sunlightonthewater. Oh my! Prowl and him going back and forth pulling the others over and battling with the twins? Love it,' she giggled. Her respect for their security enforcer remained as she checked other fics, some out of character for his personality or missing the reasoning behind his stiff actions. The mature rated ones she skipped, not sure if she wanted certain images described stored in her processor, however inaccurate the physical descriptions.

Optimus and Elita were her taboo couple, loving the romance they had once she realized one of the authors had to be Elita herself. Fiction stories on Jazz she found entertaining, wondering how many were based on truth or human imagination only. Him as a Decepticon because of his hidden optics was an interesting concept. Then the fic "_Put your love to the test." _The accurately detailed story focusing on Cybertron, the time set early in the war and featuring Jazz with a femme love. A femme assassin who used him, revving him along without committing to keep her true intents hidden.

"_You serve this Prime by choice or because of the power you wield under his authority?" Qualstar challenged, her optics narrowing. _

"_It is my duty, being part of a greater calling," Jazz answered, moving to stand behind her and let his energy signature tease across her sensors._

"_My spark calls to you and for what? Endless meetings while my clan dies in the war spreading across the region into Vos. What type of leader lets death win?"_

_He caressed down her shoulder plates savoring the smoothness of her warm metal, "Prime will save our race. The battles are coming. What matters is now. The time we steal for ourselves. Let the war fade under the fire of our passion. Let my spark pour into your essence and bathe you in its light to ecstasy." His skilled hands moved lower, releasing her armor catches as her energy wave flared with passion. The screaming of the battle alarm shattered their peace, weapons appearing out of subspace. _

"_Go to your duty, I will guard here," she stated, pushing him towards the door. The moment he left, the nanite poisoned dagger appeared in her other hand. "I am your choice, but you are an option to me. A means to an end of a Prime. If you love me as a lie imagine how you could love with the right femme." _

::Jazz to Solspark::

Nearly falling off the chair, Solspark focused on the room and the comm signal, the online fan fiction quickly closed. ::Solspark. Receiving message clear signal::

::Are you free or still on a moon base answering that way sweet spark?:: Jazz sent.

::My processor was elsewhere, and I would love to spend time with you:: Solspark admitted, her cooling fans up a notch.

::Elsewhere is better than with some bot hey. Finished the action clears for the Wreckers to leave and needed a break. See you shortly:: Jazz teased, closing the comm line.

It was hard for Solspark to stay serious around him that evening in their rooms. Her processes kept straying back to the image of Jazz as a lover. Shifting another pile of data disks, he grumbled good naturedly about repair requests and his day, unaware she imagined those hands running down her armor.

'Ok, stop with the wild routines. You both have responsibilities,' she processed, trying to read her data pad entry on variant archaic lock types.

Then he bent over the table, arm out to grasp the far spanner wrench about to fall off instead of walking around and her fans kicked on, fast. Her medical override killed it immediately but the caress of his hands on the tool, the careful checking across its surface for damage did not help.

Jazz paused, appreciating her attention directed his way even as it was out of character for her. 'Wonder what upped her driveline? Been in the room studying all day.' Curiosity piqued, he digitally checked the uplink and hid his surprise. 'Oh hey! Femme likes our online fics.' Optics hidden underneath his visor scanned her energy patterns intently. 'Still frizzy and not sure why. If this keeps up I will have to consult with Ratch. Hmm, better not add to it.' The temptation to waken her passion and complete a spark merge flashed in then out of his systems. His love was greater than any momentary fulfillment and her energy patterns too unstable to risk damage to her spark or its containment in their first merge. 'Another time my femme.'

Solspark fidgeted, her processes running high as the datapad dropped to the side of her chair. Stretching, her movements were tight and controlled.

"Want to race?" Jazz challenged.

"Where?"

"Two klicks the side auxiliary road takes a turn then runs straight through the forest to the hills. Optimus forbid racing on it against humans, but nothing forbids a little speed testing by us," Jazz offered.

"Your alt mode can beat mine, however, I do need to release some energy and carbon out of my systems. You're on!"

Returning to the Ark well past midnight local time, they pulled up to the entrance transforming and laughing. "That was awesome!" Solspark cheered, hugging Jazz tightly. Dirty and engine hot with maximum fans running she appeared to not detect the two energy signatures nearby. Jazz recognized the twins, ignoring Sideswipe and Sunstreaker knowing they were assigned guard duty for punishment after pranking Ironhide with glow in the dark paint. Neither would say a word no matter what they saw or heard, loving the fact they had inside information or processed they did.

::What have you two been doing?:: Sunstreaker sent to Jazz alone, seeing paint transfer colors on both as they neared the sentries.

::Practicing tuck and rolls for combat moves while shifting from racing to running:: Jazz answered, the truth.

:: Is that what they call it now? Tuck and roll? :: Sunstreaker commented but Sideswipe kept his optics averted as Solspark passed them. He might be many things but respectful of an unbonded femme was a courtesy locked into his core systems.

:: Call it anything I want Sunny. He's mine. You'll understand when you mature. Night twins:: Solspark teased, feeling their surprise as she hacked the communications signal. She resisted the urge to strut, too hot and worn down from practicing the tactical maneuvers while repeatedly transforming.

"Feisty feme taking the twins on. Should rev your engine more often," Jazz commented chuckling, his security link into the Ark cameras confirming the farther hallways were clear.

"Seriously? They were not even using an encrypted line. Sunstreaker's paint shine reflected halfway up the road no matter how dampened his energy pattern," Solspark corrected, armor shifting to let more air through to her protoform below.

"Could be worse, Hot Rod would have next duty if they stayed after losing track of you," Jazz chuckled.

"Scrap. You had to remind me. They leave in two solar days and I am going to miss them," Solspark admitted walking down the ramp. The lift would have been too confining a space until her system cooled more.

"What matters is now," Jazz commented, puzzled as she lost it laughing with fans choking on their highest settings.

The days passed and the morning of Wrecker's departure she said her goodbyes to Arcee and the others over their comms, wishing them the best. Jazz and the other Autobots stood outside on the landing pad, double checking the final loading of the interstellar shuttle and talking to Ultra Magnus. Conflicted, she was still searching for words to a certain mech when he found her by Teletran One.

"I couldn't leave without saying goodbye Sols," Hot Rod told her, smiling as she twitched in surprise. Alone in the command center, Solspark had relaxed, forgetting his stealth abilities were as high level as Jazz's when he wanted.

"Would you not do that! You are like a spark brother newly found. I want you to stay but I know that is not our path. I never had family before," she admitted, moving closer to him.

"Nice to be wanted and not on a poster," he wise cracked, struggling to find the words. He opened his arms, waiting for her to accept or deny his hug. She accepted, holding him tight without creating an energy response or sending any. "I am going to miss you sister of my spark," Hot Rod murmured, releasing her from the hug.

"Wreck and Rule and we will meet again this side of the Well of Sparks. " she stated. Transforming down, Solspark rolled for the main hallway, not wanting to see the shuttle lift into the clouds. Whatever they processed her reason it was excruciating for her to watch. Too many of those she loved or rescued rose in shuttles to never return or unload. Transforming up in the hallway by the floor lifts, she fought to bring her emotions under control.

"It never gets easier." Prowl's quiet comment filtering through. Leaning uncharacteristically against the wall, the white and black armored enforcer waited for her to focus on him. "I have watched thousands of our kind leave and not seen them again."

"How do you handle it?"

"By cherishing the time I had with them. Ask me not how they offlined but how they lived. I will tell you of laughter and times they fought as heroes. Of their families and their loves. Friendships made and kept over centuries in adventures that only those who lived it could understand and tease on. I calculate we shall have our share of memories and not regrets Solspark. The Wreckers are a formidable combat team and will survive the war. Here, Jazz needs you as much as you need him. In a different way but it is there."

"And Jazz needs you and you him." The sentence a statement, not a question.

"And you. There is strength in the unity of a team."

"Family, more than a team," she defined smiling. Prowl nodded, standing straight with his wing doors flexing and turning to leave. "Is there anything you need I can help with?"

He stopped, the black and white armored mech appearing to ponder the question while running calculations. Her question had not been expected and his response needed to be tempered to ensure the continued friendship. "I have a wing gear out of alignment."

"Leaning on a wall takes the pressure off for sensors to resend values, but you know that. Stay still and I can manually adjust externally through strut manipulation," she ordered, falling back on training. A breem later and he shifted, realigned and pain free. Playfully, she tugged on the wing door tip to test neuro response.

He raised an optic arch, pinning her with a command level glare while suppressing a soft chuckle. "Some might misinterpret that gesture."

"Let them. If Ratchet or First Aid tugged on you would they assume? I can weld any offenders to a surface as easily as Doctor Grumpy."

"I have no doubts. Good joor," he answered, striding off. Of the many responses Prowl could have answered, that was the safest.

_To be continued…_

_Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and reading. More action coming with Decepticon attacks and focus on the other Autobots besides her and Jazz. And the fic "Put your love to the test" does not exist outside this fic, yet. When I first started writing, there were less than a thousand Transformer stories here and multiple thousands of readers. Now I understand the Transformers more, there are few of us left to carry on and many have fallen or spread throughout the stars and their signals lost. We are family and a team. Our destiny to create and continue. Until all are one._


	9. Chapter 9 Richter link and recharge Bee

Ratchet heard the med bay door chime, his annoyance clear where no bot could see. His side office functioned as a place to work on private records while monitoring patients and helping him keep his professionalism. Many knew his gruff side or iron resolution in repairing them, very few ever seeing or knowing the brokenness of his spark when any offlined, his advanced skills unable to work another miracle. Schooling his face in a properly serious look the aged medic rose, the work station monitor automatically locking the screen until his return. "Who the frag did what this time of night? Half the base is on an away mission and all others should be recharging,' he grumbled, stepping out into the main treatment area.

"I'm sorry, were you busy?" Solspark stood just inside the door, her frame turned towards the doors as if to flee.

"Finishing routine updates. How may I assist?" Ratchet smiled, full charm. A former politician, he poured the non-threatening protocols on as he moved to stand by a general exam berth. The very sight of her a surprise and a trigger to warning protocols on his behavior let he scare her off.

"I am having some minor program issues. Unlocked archived files that are clashing with modern ones," She explained, looking anywhere but at him. The blue and silver armored femme turned towards him and not the doors, moving a few steps closer.

He nodded, keeping his energy fields tight and calm. His optics were another matter, spinning rapidly and focused entirely on her. "Patterns frizzy to pit and minor my aft! How long has she been suffering with this? Slagging Jazz knows better, can't tell me he couldn't see this and bring her here. Is the romance over already?"

"I am unsure how to resolve the issue and needed advice," Solspark finally looked at him, more a student asking a teacher than for medical care, but it was enough.

"How long unarchived? And define clashing as you take a seat here please," Ratchet gestured to the berth, lowering it down to be a comfortable height for a bot her size to sit on. He reached back, pulling out a rolling stool from under a work cabinet. The others teased him about copying humans until he showed them a pic from his intern days. His first surgical instructor had been injured in a shuttle crash and used a rolling stool to keep working as his frame was rebuilt. Ratchet found it useful, and fun around the femmes he wanted to chase after hours in the practice bays. Now it lowered his height, making him less intimidating to the one femme who needed to trust him more.

She approached like a scared youngling, hesitant in her steps and watching him closely and checking for any equipment around the table area before sitting down.

::Moonie, I need you in med bay:: Ratchet sent on an encrypted beam, hoping Solspark's nervousness meant she was focused on herself and would not intercept his signal.

:You always need me my mate. And want me. On my way. Why?:: Moonracer answered, her tone curious.

::Solspark is here alone and I want a femme in the room to reassure:: Ratchet

::Scrap. If she is asking for help with Jazz gone it's bad. Transforming in the outer hallway now:: Moonracer

::Jazz is gone where? And why?:: Ratchet sent back, externally calm as Solspark answered his questions on when the programs had been unarchived and why.

::He is on a long-range mission tracking Con activity. Left two days ago per orders. Optimus asked Elita and I to keep a check on Solspark without explaining why. He must have known something was up from Jazz. Slag both those mechs! Elita is dealing with Firestar breaking curfew again but can be here shortly if needed:: Moonracer explained.

"The conflicts are not resetting during recharge and I cannot archive the affected data grids. I need help," Solspark finished explaining, the earnest look in her optics tugging at his detached mannerisms.

"May I access internal logs?" Ratchet offered, predicting she would refuse.

"Sending now."

Surprised, he waited for the files before hiding a wince as they opened. The jumble of archive types, dates and data threatened to overwhelm for a nano second until his enhanced systems processed it down. The gaps as he suspected were not altered but erased, causing part of the problem. And not by her. Anger rose as he identified Alpha Trion's imprint matching the same data gaps and signature files Optimus carried after being rebuilt into Prime. 'Bet Trion never asked her anymore than he did Orion before changing frame and systems. Played Primus for his own ends never processing their long-term effects. Needing Primes to lead and butchering their insides without permission is no better than Megatron enslaving mechs into combiner teams.'

Moonracer arrived, reassuring Solspark she was there to see her mate but would stay if the other femme didn't mind the company.

COMMAND CALL. OPTIMUS PRIME. TEAM TWO ATTACKED. WOUNDED INBOUND ON SILVERBOLT AND SKYFIRE. FULL TRIAGE MEDICAL ALERT. INCOMING WOUNDED.

Med bay alarms activated triggering tool cabinets to unlock and roll towards their berths in an assigned choreography. Ratchet and Moonracer swore, lunging for consoles and activating programs. Solspark jumped, the berth under her rising and unlocking drawers with repair tools underneath. Colors flashed on the medical berth sides designating each for basic, triage or advanced surgical repair to indicate the equipment accessible as attachments unfolded and rose into place.

"I can handle these three berths, basic to stabilizing. Permission to unlock full Richter protocols?" Solspark moved into position across the room and began laying out tools, hard venting the moment she realized what she had just done. What she had admitted with a single sentence to the one mech who would accept no excuse.

"Permission granted," Ratchet replied, sending his official approval as CMO as he throttled his shock down. The Richter approval allowing her not only full access into his medical files but complete authority to repair or change any setting on any bot. And the echo required from her on everything she did, a system access into her. Access only the higher level medics shared where their processors could literally merge as one for a procedure, his experience through her hands and vice versa.

Solspark hesitated, afraid to reveal her level of skills and open herself to him. 'Scrap. No more racing away from problems.' The echo returned, giving Ratchet her code key. The faintest ping rippled through her as he activated it, a soft presence if needed. He didn't overwhelm as a field surgeon had once done, dominating any working medic nor did Ratchet immediately try to override her and micro manage possible outcomes.

The med bay doors opened with First Aid and Hoist bringing in the survivors. Energon flowed across the tables out of the jagged wounds of their patients, main systems crashing as the medics fought to keep Cybertronian sparks flaring with Ratchet handling the most critical. Wounded mechs surprised at Solspark's presence relaxed as her hands skillfully repaired or adjusted injuries, their pain eased the foremost of her concerns after system functioning.

"Slaggin 'Cons! Scraped his outer spires, cracking a core side," Ratchet swore softly, shifting his morphic tool to a laser cutter. Skids lay on the surgical table, his chest armor ripped apart with long rents across his spark casing that could only be from Starscream. The mech's hand hung off the table, limp and charred without movement when it should have been twitching with pain.

Flowing swiftly through the Richter link, Solspark's presence wrapped around Ratchet's for a nano second. ::Better way:: The image of the damage undone with adding an overlay for spark steadying, using other spires sideways to reinforce over the gap. Removal and change out of damaged parts later after the spark settled, the new spires immediately accepted and steadying even if sideways. Echoes of countless battlefield repairs of it working flowed. Ratchet acknowledged, shifting his morphic tool to a mini welder as his spark felt pain at the injuries portrayed. Pain for those who had suffered such cruelty as deliberate spark mangling and her repairing so many. Her presence comforted accepting his pain and leaving the link, the echo of her understanding why he felt the way he did.

"Solspark's records never indicated she had a Richter link or experience in spark level repairs, only basics to stabilize in retrieval," Ratchet grumbled near sunrise, the situation contained.

"Name any medic on the battlefield that doesn't have more experience than a record documents," Moonracer reminded, long use to her mate's frustration after battle repairs. Standing behind him she let the strength of her spark reach for his, a reassurance of life and her love for him.

"True. You learn or lose your patients. And I never want to lose you Moonie. Why you choose to stay with a grumpy old rust bot is beyond me," he stated, settling back against her. His office a temporary retreat from the full berths and tracking monitors.

"That would be Ironhide and he is Chromia's problem. I have a stubborn hot mech with skilled hands," she crooned, rubbing helms with him.

"These hands cannot save every spark."

"But they try, and we lost no bot today. Thanks to you and Solspark. She asked for help and stayed to save others," Chromia noted. Her gaze settled on the far wall where the blue and silver femme recharged draped over a medical cabinet, literally dropping off with exhaustion where she had sat.

"I should add her to the wounded list and keep her."

"Would that benefit her the most old friend?" Optimus challenged softly, stepping out of the hidden hallway and over the cabinet braced there.

"No. Which is why I called for you. I will upload a sorting program for her relays, the Richter link is still open. If she is not reset by at least sixty percent the command override will force her back here. For now, the patient needs to recharge where she feels safe," Ratchet admitted, shying away from the fact every berth in med bay already full of recovering mechs, several in deep stasis and critical.

"Understood." The ancient Prime picked Solspark up into his arms as tenderly as he would have his own Elita One, carrying her through the hidden passage back to his office. His Matrix flared, warming as it recognized the other device's proximity.

::All clear. I will meet you outside the quarters and take her inside myself:: Prowl sent.

::Don't trust me to not get lost?:: Optimus teased back, his blue optics focusing on the shape in his arms. Smaller and more fragile looking than his Elita One he felt sympathy and a little envy. His exhaustion post battle beat on him. 'No bot to carry me to recharge,' he processed, a pile of endless records and responsibilities waiting for him as Prime and leader.

::Trust you? Yes. The chaos that is Jazz's possessions in their quarters? No. I am still calculating the most advantageous course through with minimum disruption. My wing doors pulled tight should clear:: Prowl answered.

Optimus chuckled, the mirth moving his frame. ::Perhaps Ultra Magnus should pay his former soldier a visit. Let him accidentally rearrange part of the room::

::A Prime processing? Solspark listed Grimlock as her emergency backup:: Prowl admitted, pondering the correlation with the name, an utter bafflement when she had first listed the Dinobot.

::With the Dinobots obsession of protecting the femmes that is not a bad processing. I'm here:: Optimus countered, transferring Solspark to Prowl's arms.

Solspark pulled out of recharge, disorientated to time and space as systems lagged. A single energy signature identified as friendly though muted nearby allowing her time to focus. Snapping up with active Operations level coding, the memories of med bay returned. She recognized their shared room, the mural plates stacked against the far wall, waiting on the finishing of their quarters remodel. The recharge door opened, the fact it was closed for once not even registering as the most unlikely mech stepped through.

"Bumblebee?"

"Hi. Jazz is fine, the wounded are recovering, and I needed to ask you a question but didn't want to disturb you recharging. I waited in the main room," he stated, guessing what she would want to know. The yellow armored mini bot clasped his hands together before moving closer.

"I would not have blasted you," she vented, reassuring.

"It's okay if you did. I know you have recharge issues. I understand. After my capture at Tyger Pax I started having them too." The young scout looked up at her, scuffing one footpad across the carpet like the youngling he resembled.

Solspark gazed back, every system locked tight least he detect anything of her unease with the mention of Tyger Pax. "I heard what happened. You have every right to have post event issues."

"Prime and I with Ironhide's help have tried processing the memories. I cannot face them all, but I do remember the shuttle evac," he admitted, his tone soft. His frame trembled, the energy signature warping in his distress. "I know you were the femme. The medical tech without a left arm, other armor bent. You saved me."

"No, Ratchet saved you," she corrected. "I was on the team to rescue you and the others. I got injured during the raid and was shipped back on the same mini shuttle "

"Ratchet saved Skids but you helped there too. I processed you familiar the first time we met, but never cross referenced those files. Then it clicked with this last night's repair notes. Sideways spires added to make a temporary spark framework." His blue optics locked on hers, his expression a mix of pain and earnestness triggering her femme protocols.

"How did? You hacked Ratchet's medical records!" She realized, stuttering at the impossible and knowing Ratchet would offline any bot he caught in his domain.

"Skids is one of us, like you. I monitor all our team and I learned a lot of medical recovering. But mini bots are not allowed to be medics, our size differentials. That's why the big medic left me to die. You didn't."

Solspark vented deeply, no longer denying the past. "Yes, I remember Sandblocker. He was a leader class senior medic, always pushing his beliefs on other medical staff and tying to overwhelm us with his knowledge. That's why he personally led the shuttle teams, to save the worse of the prisoners and evacuate out the quickest. He triage tagged you as not worth saving because of the severity of your injuries and being a mini bot. I was taught and still believe every spark is worth saving and our external shell is a shell. Who and what we are is in our spark. Yours still flared, pulsing inside mangled or missing spires. I knew how to stabilize your spark and I did. Ratchet took over when we connected to the main transport and his work saved you. I am so sorry you suffered."

"The records state they used a portable sparkling containment case to hold my spark stable for repairs. Literally placed it over my spark to protect then added a new spire base underneath. The base triage medic listed the sideways spires as part of the procedures before Ratchet transferred me to Iacon to recover. For once being small was useful."

"Your spark is as pure and large as Optimus," Solspark encouraged, feeling his energy signature stabilize. Both had trauma and survived it, understanding what could never be explained fully in words to another.

"Thank you. I need to recharge soon. And you should rest some more. Hopefully the nightmares will stay away."

Chromia entered the outer room, angling carefully to avoid knocking over any of the piles of items everywhere. Skilled feet moved across the floor as agile as any dancer as she leaned in to check the recharge room.

::Hide, you got to see this:: Chromia chuckled, sending him the pic.

::Is that?:: Ironhide sputtered back, his signal strong from the med bay.

::Solspark with Bumblebee held in her arms while they recharge? Yes. Has he been having flashbacks again?:: Chromia sent, leaving two energon cubes on the floor by the door, no where else in the room to set them before exiting.

::Ain't slagging mentioned it. He'll check on me to make sure Ratch ain't torturing me while stuck here. Quiz him then. Check with Prime later if he knows.:: Ironhide

::Did you leave the door open or he follow you home and you decide to keep him?:: Jazz's voice prodded her to awareness.

:::Jazz? You're back!:: Solspark's optics flashed open, seeing him standing near the berth, a frown on his face as he gazed at them. Then it registered. Gazed at them. Not at her but her and a mech recharging on her berth. The other cuddled in her arms instead of her challenge sworn mate to be. ::This is not what you process!::

His visor flipped up, his bright enhanced optics scanning them both. ::Easy Sols. I know you ain't going to cheat on me. Not the type any more than I am. What concerns me is Bee having processor issues again. We need him functional or Optimus and Ironhide glitch and that dings all of us.::

Bumblebee must have felt the scan, pulling out of recharge to see his boss standing there visor up. "Not what you process!" He began explaining, pulling away from Solspark.

The visor snapped down, Jazz's expression neutral. "I process my best scout is guarding my femme after a Decepticon raid to ensure her safety until my return?"

"Yes sir!" Bumblebee snapped to his feet, more falling off the higher berth height to land on his feet pads.

"See Ironhide in med bay. He needs guarding but be warned he vents heavy from both ends. If you want to snuggle with him," Jazz teased, watching the yellow armored mech practically flee the room.

"TMI!" Solspark giggled, moving to stand. Her movements were cautious not sure how Jazz would react when they were alone.

"Can't leave you for a breem sweet spark and you create chaos," he vented, smiling at her.

"Chaos?" An optic arch rose.

"My mission ended early, tracked the raid that hit our folks. Rolling back I get comm messages from bots that you are working in med bay, thanking me for their repairs. A message from Ratchet peeling my paint for not helping you sooner. Prowl wanting more record updates to your training files post conversation with Ratchet and Optimus thanking me for warning the Cons were inbound to their research location even if I could not stop the attack," he paused, laying his hands on her shoulders and touching helms with her.

"I had to help. Too many were hurting, and I couldn't roll away," she admitted, leaning into his touch.

"Wouldn't have it any other way. I need repairs, those hands of yours ready for me?" Jazz asked.

"More than my hands are ready," she answered shifting to a medical mode. Jazz's engine revving and his smirk catching her attention. "Uh, that did not come out right. That is, oh frag."

"Fragging works if you are sure sweet spark," he suggested before jumping up on the berth. "But I have to wait for medical clearance. Cracked a leg strut with blown cogs."

"What did you kick?" Solspark grumbled, ignoring his teasing being too embarrassed to answer and focused on repairs.

"I ricocheted off a wall actually. Turned the force into a spin move and shot back at the target."

Her optics narrowed, her gentle hands inspecting the twisted leg and probing deeper underneath the armor for damage. "Translated you were thrown, probably by a seeker with that claw damage and flipped back to attack mech of mine. I can fix but you'll be down for several joors."

"Better here with you than med bay. Ratchet is full up and not too happy with me right now. Challenge."

"Challenge back at you chaos lover and when do I get to go on a field mission?" Solspark asked, an innocent tone to her question. It had the effect she calculated, his focus on answering as she jerked out a ragged power line.

"Ow!"

"Hurt worse with it sparking next to that secondary energon line if it made contact. Power base is solid and won't need replacing. Need to strip your armor off and get in tight. Oh for Primus sake! Would you get your processer focused on repairs?" Solspark admonished, his smirk and engine revving distracting.

"If I'm the one off processor how did you know what I meant?"

"Ok, got me on that one. "

_To be continued…_

_Author's Notes: Thanks for reading and any reviews. No one exists alone in the universe, no matter how Solspark might feel or hide. And fate / destiny / or coincidence occurs, and people realize they have crossed paths before. Let me know if people are enjoying the story or are we way off track. Is there anything to expand readers want to see? Medical, ancient Cybertronian history, the fan clubs or fic stuff, Matrix powers and changes, more Wreckers, Ops training? All coming but chapter by chapter. Until all are one._


	10. Chapter 10 Virus and all access

**Chapter Ten **

"As demolitions I am usually blowing things up, not waiting for them to arrive at o dark thirty," Brawn commented, peering at the horizon as the sun began rising. Less than half her height, he massed nearly triple her weight in his yellow and brown frame, the reinforced armor made for heavy combat and cyber pulling.

"It's required cross training and sunrises are beautiful here on earth and worth the time spent," Solspark corrected, focusing on the shifting colors of the sky after finishing a rare night patrol. She watched the pink and blues colors forming across the clouds, marveling at the sight.

"This planet is too varied. I miss Cybertron," Gears added, ignored as his usual complaint was heard. The small red and blue mech fiddled with an arm panel, clanging it open and close then open and close again until a glare from the medic stopped him.

"I wish Magnus would miss tangling with Shockwave or we could all still be in recharge," Ratchet noted, watching the forest tree line appearing in the rising daylight. "But when you are a threat you are always a target. As long as he doesn't return next year at this same time injured, creating a yearly pattern."

"An earth year since the Wreckers were here?" Solspark echoed, checking internal system dates. A high priority image flashed, a marker to be remembered for all her existence tied to the date. In less than a quarter joor the reminder would have triggered with her normal waking routine. "A year to the day that Jazz asked me to challenge or deny our relationship as one."

Facing the Ark, she waited for the sight that made her spark race now. A white armored mech who more bounced that walked, moving as though listening to a beat only he heard. Jovial, relaxed and ready for anything he would check the shuttle pad and do his assigned duty no matter the hour of the morning. Even though he had spent half the night talking with her and tracking her path with Teletran One, his duty would be handled. Then Jazz strode into the sunlight, the barest change in his step and the tilting of his visor to the side as he recognized her.

::Happy challenge day!:: Their signals overlapping as they greeted each other on the internal comms. Too far away to see Jazz's expression, Solspark locked down her chuckling least the bots nearby hear it. She had no doubt he knew the date without a reminder. The first month together the roughest for them both, challenges sent to each other but never denied. The other Special Operations mechs more accepting of her role and training than she herself had been. Jazz training her with infinite patience, a trait he stated hard learned from Prowl as Solspark had fumbled through drills to complete or crashing in ways no other bot had even attempted. The blasting of her own frame into Hot Rod to beat an unwinnable contest still a stellar achievement in her processing, an event the others rarely mentioned.

"I don't see any lights or detect interplanetary signals. Are you sure we didn't get up for nothing?" Gears stated, the perpetual whine tone mixed in as he peered skyward.

"Standard Wrecker procedure. Shuttle is running silent, no lights or markers to be tracked. Officially they are still on Cybertron tracking Shockwave's blockade troops," Red Alert explained, standing in for Prowl. The commander was dealing with the fallout from a twins prank and would coordinate later.

"I swear Prime plans this," Jazz's sudden presence startling her. Instead of checking the shuttle pad the mech had snuck up on them, moving directly into her energy range undetected before speaking. "He leaves for missions and puts Prowl in charge leaving me to command the Wreckers. Time to be the official boss bot of the crazy crew. See how long they want me to babysit this time. Catch ya later," he finished before transforming into his IMSA GT Porsche 935 Turbo mode. She watched his racing form until he disappeared inside the Ark entrance, vowing to sneak up on him yet.

The deep rumbling of an interplanetary engine was the only warning as the shuttle descended out of the clouds, a tight descent pattern to its flight path. The shuttle coasted in, the displaced air blowing dust and small rocks to the sides as it touched on the landing pad, its external lights activating to illuminate the area. The hull's battered yellow armor intact but a witness to the violent clashes still happening on Cybertron. Gears and Brawn ran forward, locking the shuttle extensions down.

The loading ramp descended, Ultra Magnus larger frame clearly visible with his distinctive red and blue armor paints on an enormous medical lift. Ratchet and First Aid moved in, securing the lift and double-checking patient stability before moving rapidly past back into the Ark.

Springer and Kup descended next, their movements slow and steady with weapons ready as they checked the area automatically. Solspark approved of their caution if a bit over done as she approached them, waiting for a certain mech to appear.

"Hot Rod!" Her exultant shout had the red and yellow armored bot whipping around on the ramp to wave excitedly back. Laughing, almost running the others over to reach her the young mech grabbed her in a tight hug.

::Sister of my troubles! Still with that dark spark dancing spy?:: Hot Rod sent, releasing her chuckling.

::Smart aft! Jazz is my always. You still chasing that terrifying high grade guzzler femme?:: She sent back, letting his hands wrap around hers.

::If you don't terrify a little bit, then what's the point of being a Wrecker?:: Hot Rod teased, nodding back towards the shuttle ramp as Arcee descended. The pink and white femme waved at them, ducking under the shuttle to open the refueling hatch near the front braces.

Blurr was next off the shuttle, stopping to considering the duo. "Why are they touching? Solspark is with Jazz and Hot Rod is one of us yet those two together create more trouble than all of us combined. Is this going to be more training that is not training but spying and scouting while Magnus is recovering? Is it?"

"You'll understand when you are older Blurr," Springer commented, stretching to ease tight cables locked into his broken propeller struts. Only two of the metal shafts remained, both scored and charred. The green mech was stubbornly upright and walking with injuries, declining assist to keep the focus on Magnus instead.

"I'm older and I understand absolutely nothing about those two," Kup commented, gesturing for them to follow the direction the medical lift had rolled. The aged blue armored warrior had the fewest injuries, having been the one to guard their escape route.

Once landing duties were completed, Arcee and Solspark headed for the personal quarters while discussing their number one problem all the way.

"What did you tell him?" Solspark asked, opening the door to the team's expanded rooms.

"Do not confuse my bad days as a sign of weakness. Those are the days I am fighting my hardest," Arcee answered, scanning the rooms to find any hidden caches. The connected rooms were an improvement for the Operations Team but lacked the comfy destructive feel of the Wrecker's bases, without visible weapons or parts lying around.

"And Hot Rod accepted that?" Solspark quizzed, opening the door to her private quarters with Jazz, sliding two items back inside with her foot that had fallen out when the door opened.

"Why not? Course my blasters pointed at his mid riff plates probably helped. And Springer standing behind me waiting to trounce him into the lower cores if he gave me further trouble helped," she smiled. The clutter inside more familiar, especially half built locks and weapon components.

"I agree. I have no problem admitting when I am wrong. It is being misunderstood that wears my gears. A mech here suggested I was too emotional as a femme to be a specialist. Really? Have you seen a mech lose at a simulator game? It's like processor over heating on coding enhancements when they blow a level and miss a score in a game," Solspark chuckled.

"My answer? The most dangerous femme of all is the one who refuses to rely on your sword to save her because she carries her own. It's not emotions or rank or teams really. It's war and the enemy makes no difference in which of our sparks they shatter. And telling me I can't do something is the same as saying I dare you. Like Jazz assigning me to you," Arcee explained.

"Help me be stronger?"

"You don't need my help with that. No. His reason when I asked was this. Mechs and especially Decepticons see a femme first and her blaster last. When you rip out their spark and show them how wrong they were, I want a femme face to be the last thing they see."

"Jazz," Solspark turned slowly, as if hearing her name called from a distance.

"Yes your spark mech wanna be said that," Arcee teased. "Sols? Hello? Cybertron to Sols?"

"Jazz is in trouble."

"How? He is with Magnus and Prowl safe in the," whatever Arcee would have said lost under the onerous scream of the general alarm. The outer room door lock engaged, clicking audibly into place.

_ARK FACILITY OVERRIDE, COMMANDER PROWL. ALL AUTOBTOS PROTECT IN PLACE. STAND BY FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS._

Base lights flickered and failed, the emergency lights steadying as both femmes braced.

_SECURITY OVERRIDE, ACTING COMMANDER JAZZ. DO NOT ACCESS MAIN CORRIDOR. MEDICAL EMERGENCY IN PROGRESS._

Solspark cleared the fourth-floor ramp, not even conscious of leaving the room or sprinting up the hallway as Jazz's message blasted across all frequencies. Her left arm blaster lowered into its housing, the blasted door lock already forgotten. What had happened that Prowl was down? And Jazz in command suddenly? What hurt Prowl would hurt Jazz. What hurt Jazz could cripple her and be a threat to them all. Arcee was only a step behind in flight as Hound and Bumblebee joined on the third-floor ramps, snapping at them to return to quarters.

"You aren't!" Arcee challenged, pacing with the taller bot Hound step for step.

"Security overrides activate us automatically. All operations bots respond," he countered.

"And I am assigned to her and she is operations," Arcee pointed to Solspark as she disappeared up the second-floor ramp around the corner into the main hallway.

"Move!" Solspark dove back around narrowly missing being impaled by curved metal as the others slid to a stop by her. Sounds of fighting and yelling had them spreading out against the walls, weapons ready.

"It's Magnus, he's attacking," Solspark warned, crouching low to look around the corner. Arcee crouched over her, tilting to see as Hound stood over them both staring. A med bay door blasted and torn in half lay before them in the hallway, metal parts and tools scattered in the corridor as sounds of heavy treads and yelling moved further away.

_COMMAND OVERRIDE, FIRST AID, MEDICAL ASSISTANT. ALL MEDICAL STAFF TO MED BAY, MULTIPLE AUTOBOTS DOWN. FOURTH IN COMMAND TRANSFER INITIATED. CODE 123 E ENGAGED. MAGNUS AT ARK ENTRANCE._

"What is code 123 E?" Arcee asked, seeing their expressions range from startled to grim hardening.

"Out of control leader class or larger size bot. E is for everything meaning a warrior or front-line fighter to assist in take down without offlining or weapon use, full defensive precautions," Bumblebee explained.

"Do you have a code for everything? You couldn't just say help him?" Arcee snapped, running into the corridor after the others, worried about what the earth crew would do to her commander.

"E is for everything," Hound repeated, stepping over a half-embedded power saw in the floor.

"Jazz? Jazz!" Solspark darted inside the room, spotting him slumped against the bottom half of the door like a broken toy that had been tossed away. The saboteur mech hunched on his side, one arm bent backward beyond its rotation and his visor cracked nearly apart. Ratchet and Wheeljack laid unmoving on the center floor by a flattened tool cart bearing plasma damage. Beyond them she spotted Hoist's feet pads past another damaged cabinet and the unmistakable black and white wing door of Prowl by Ratchet's office, too low for the mech to be anything but on the floor prone. Plasma char marks traced across the ceiling and down the wall. "This is impossible. Protocols lock down weapons in this room."

A breeze wrapped around her, a quick dart of blue in the room as Blurr checked for life. "All online, damaged but none critical. Why would Magnus do this? What do we do now? I can't be everywhere at once and who is in charge now to tell us what to do?"

"Blurr, get Ratchet and Prowl online first. We need them as command then other medics to fix Magnus upon capture," she ordered, shifting Jazz onto his back and easing his damaged arm into a more natural gear rotation. The fight raged in her spark to stay and start treating Jazz or help with Magnus before half the base went down or worse.

"I'm sorry but I have to help," Solspark caressed his cracked visor and ran back into the hallway. Passing two more downed mechs she slowed to a walk into the sunlight, stepping over Kup's downed frame lying next to Magnus plasma cannon. Ramhorn pressed against her legs, his rhinoceros horn tip broken off as the red cassette tried protecting her from moving further out. Magnus swayed in the roadway, armor visibly shaking as a long sword slid out into his left hand. Bumblebee and Gears raced in under his legs in their alt modes, roping the sword in an energy net between them and pulling it away. Raging, Magnus stomped a foot their direction, a spiraling chain covered with blades uncoiling from a wrist hatch.

"I got this!" Brawn yelled, his form jumping and spinning into the center of the coiled chain twirling his energon staff sideways to snag the chain free. Then Magnus rotated his head, his optics deepening into dark purple as he flexed his wrist to send the yellow and brown armored mech snapping backwards like the crack of a whip.

"Magnus stop! We are your family!" Arcee yelled, diving flat as Brawn flew past overhead, the mini bot too heavy for her to catch without injury to her systems.

_COMMAND OVERRIDE. FIRST AID, ACTING MEDICAL. GET CLEAR! MAGNUS IS UNDER CONTROL OF A DECEPTICON TRANSMUTE VIRUS. HIS SAFETIES ARE OFFLINE! _

"How do we stop him?"

"We don't," First Aid stated distractedly while spraying welding powder into Smokescreen's deep gash. "Contain and give him time, his core systems are fighting the berserker cy-virus or he wouldn't be moving. Wheeljack tried to manually engage overrides to be misread as an external attack thereby triggering this! "

"And if Magnus loses the fight? What happens then?" Springer challenged, fearing for his friend as he braced against Hot Rod, the green flyer too injured to continue.

"Primus help us all," Blaster swore, holding his cassette Rewind while trying to patch the spurting energon line exposed mid plate. Steeljaw ran in, the lion shaped cassette holding the patch down with one clawed foot on his teammate.

"We got to," Springer vented hard, a choking sound before wobbling and almost collapsing.

"Okay, you're done. No more fighting," Hot Rod commanded, zapping Springer with his hand stunner and lowering the Wrecker to the pavement. He looked up, weighing options before turning to Solspark. "If Prime were here, he would know what to do. You said once you could stop Grimlock. If you can be a light to his darkness, now is the time."

"I need space," she answered, not sure if it would work. Hot Rod trusted her, without knowing her past or what she carried and that was enough to try.

"Then you shall have it," the warrior mech answered before transforming down and racing out towards Magnus, circling his feet until the huge mech began stomping at him slowly moving forward. Skids joined the circling pattern, his striped blue alt mode racing behind Hot Rod's until a glancing kick sent him flying away.

"Matrix of Peace hear my call. Show us the path, lest we fall," Solspark quoted the ancient request in the language of the Primes, tapping the metal over her spark twice in reverence. She waited, not sure if it would even respond. The Matrix blazed to life, its fierce power flowing through her systems. Externally her optics cycled to pure white, shifting beyond their design.

To her, the virus unleashed within Magnus materializing as a purple monstrosity. The virus ripped through his firewalls, wrapping auto fails and protections in purple lines to effectively strangle any measures to stop it. He was losing control rapidly and knew it as his focus remained on one data grid, not to block but override it with a single command. 'Magnus isn't fighting to kill us but trying to self-offline,' she realized in horror, the pattern clear. A soldier's sacrifice to protect those he loved. The virus would never stop, so the Commander would end the threat by destroying his own spark to save them, even saving another of pulling the trigger and living with his death.

Her first sounds were indistinct, too soft to be heard over the raving and rumbling noises. The sounds rising into a song without words, the melody pure and utterly Cybertronian as it poured out of Solspark. The feeling woven into it of the comforting of a femme to a new sparkling, the peace of a mate, the joy of an old friend seen and felt mixing with the rising of hope on a new day. The mechs in front of her moved aside as she approached, the melody calming them as the Matrix fulfilled its purpose. Blaster kneeled to honor her song as it flowed over them, his cassettes letting her pass by before closing ranks to guard. On the edge of her vison she saw the swirling energy that was Blurr grabbing Skids and pulling him away to safety.

His optics nearly black in color with rage, Ultra Magnus stumbled her direction. The leader class mech towered over her nearly four times her height, massing more than Optimus and utterly dangerous.

"Dion." The name right without an explanation of how she knew it, calling to him. "Dion. The battle is over. Rest brother."

She felt the ground impact as he fell to his knees before the melody, distantly hearing his metal scraping as he swayed trying to reach for her. Magnus groaned trying to resist crushing her until her gentle caress over his battle-scarred plating stilled him as matrix energy transferred. Its control swept through him, cleaning, purging the virus and ultimately the Matrix rejecting him. Not the harsh burn of unworthiness but a refusal. He could carry any of the ancient Matrixes being strong and resolute but never to merge with it. Life meant movement. Growth. And courage, not to run headlong into battle but the quiet strength at the end of the day to try again tomorrow when everything collapsed. Magnus was content in taking orders as a soldier and avoiding opportunities for higher responsibility, a judgment of failure by the Matrix that found him wanting.

'How am I any different?' Solspark processed, not expecting an answer. The vision blazing in purity as it flowed through her as any time the Matrix could have been discarded, forgotten in its weakness. Instead, Solspark kept it next to her spark being protected and nurtured even being allowed to drain energy. A part of her existence. Magnus would have used it, passing to another willingly afterwards to be forgotten in a storage holder, darkened. Another relic of a dying world. Now she called to it to fulfill its purpose of freedom from destruction and the peace to calm a raging spark. The Matrix needed because one with pure intentions had called to it to save another.

"How is she doing that?" Hound asked, seeing Magnus kneeling with her hands touching his as the rage stopped. The commander's dark optics lightened to their normal blazing blue as the melody stopped.

"High frequency communications? Does it matter if it works? Command can sort it out later," Hot Rod bypassed the question, their optics seeing only the physical. He trusted her for having been a Prime and based on his research, she would always be a Prime and that meant the ability to pull off miracles when needed just like Optimus.

_::Situation is contained. All personnel released to assist wounded. Medics will verify then we can transport Magnus back to med bay. Code 123 E CANCELLED::_ First Aid sent wide signal.

Magnus lay on his front, head turned to the side and Arcee touching him as First Aid and Inferno rapidly checked him over. The assembled Autobots encircled them, waiting to assist. None noticed Hot Rod escort Solspark away to a side entrance, guiding because her optics were shut tight to hide the white alteration.

"Turn in here Sols. Pit stop in the storeroom," Hot Rod said, swinging her to the left. Sounds of a door opening, sound echoing back in a small space and the door shutting audible to her confirming their location.

"Why? Jazz needs help. He's down in med bay and I left him," Solspark protested, stumbling but unable to break free of Hot Rod's stronger grip.

"Others are taking care of him and the wounded. You need to reset your optics. Then we can move but not before, I am not risking you," Hot Rod instructed.

"I can't. I don't know how, I didn't," she sputtered, opening them wide to blazing purity.

"Easy Sols, calm down and try."

"I am trying. The emergency reset isn't working!" She snapped, closing them tight and trying all she knew medically to override. "I need time."

"We don't have time right now," Hot Rod warned before deciding. "My lady Prime, forgive me."

Solspark had a second to pull away, something in his formal tone a warning before the full stun blast hit hard, dropping her system into a holding stasis. Hot Rod caught her effortlessly, swinging Solspark up in his arms. A hologram formed around them both, shifting them into Springer and Arcee in his arms with a broken foot pad.

The walk to the private quarters only challenged once by Seaspray, the blue mini bot backing down with the quick answer Wreckers took care of their own and med bay was packed. Laying Solspark on her own bunk triggered the hologram to dissolve as Hot Rod arranged her comfortably, resting his hand over her spark armor. "I hope Jazz recognizes the rare treasure you are. Worth ten of any one of us. Arcee will be here to guard shortly. Your secrets are safe my Prime."

Solspark failing to answer Jazz's comm calls when he roused created a moment of panic before her tracking signal echoed back in their quarters. His last memory of her touching him, unable to stop her a sub routine to be handled later. As soon as the medics were busy with another patient he left, his arm in a sling for Solspark was more important than repairs. The other Wreckers were in disarray with the events and refusing to leave Magnus, giving Jazz time before needing to resume command. A quick review of cameras as Acting SIC filled him in on events. Discovering Hot Rod was mixed up in it upgraded the young Wrecker from 'annoying' to 'dangerous' as camera replay showed him leading Solspark away. A slicer code and the file footage of everything after the shuttle arrival wiped itself then the cameras went into install reset mode to prevent backup retrievals from any of them. The Wreckers wouldn't care, and no trace of the activities would be digitally stored away for later review and the events forgotten as time passed.

As Jazz descended to their fifth-floor quarters, the usually jovial mech was unsmiling. He ordered Arcee out into the hallway, needing to verify Solspark's status alone. Jazz stared at his challenge sworn mate, letting his specialized systems scan down to her protoform and decided. He needed answers that could not be spoken or seen with scans alone. Connector cables extended out from his wrist, layered safety protocols engaging around his spark as he braced himself for what he might find.

Linking directly into Solspark's system for the first time, he blew past her innermost fire walls before realizing it. '_Unrestricted - Full access_,' flashed across his visor display. Nothing was blocked within her to him and Jazz stopped. Only Prowl had ever granted him the same access, never used but there. A gesture of faith in the mech when Jazz had none in himself out of his past and now her.

Disconnecting, he sat next to her wondering why she had done so. It left Solspark not only incredibly vulnerable to any harm if he wished it but also allowed him to see and relive anything of her past. No matter how hidden, painful or locked the event Jazz could access it repeatedly and she had never told him, releasing access the day she challenged him with a mailbox message. The fact Solspark had granted him full access was enough for him without probing. Touching helms to express his silent gratitude, Jazz snarled as sophisticated sensors echoed the stun blast from Hot Rod, easily traceable with the close contact. 'Time to interrogate and possibly a last time he was seen walk,' Jazz processed, resuming control of a situation that had spiraled out quickly from the morning.

A touch on his arm focused him back as Solspark stirred, her light blue optics opening. The radiant smile on her face when recognizing him erased any doubts she loved him. Her concern and fear over the sling and spare visor soothed his running processes, even as he reassured her. "Docs will fix me right up. A cog here, an adjustment there and my rock and roll will be rolling."

"Do we have any high grade around?" She asked, sitting up with his help and struggling weakly.

"Why?"

"Because of that slagging bit brain dim spark," Solspark swore fervently. "Rod hit me with a stunner and dumped me here. I need an energy boost to override the effects. Then I am so going to kick his aft into high orbit. And return what's left to the Arcee for jewelry."

"Need to get in line sweet spark," Jazz said before processing, holding her close. Her feistiness a welcome improvement.

"Why? What else has he done?"

"Nothing. No rocket launches without prior approval, forms in triplicate," he chuckled temporizing, hiding his concerns. "You need rest not be overcharging. I will take time with you later however, high grade included."

"I'm always resting. Optimus is a Prime and never recharges. How does he do it?" She challenged even as she relaxed out by his good arm, systems cycling down.

"The Matrix of Leadership does not draw on his systems but enhanced him the first time. It gives wisdom and stores our history as well as knowledge of each Prime before him. The rest is his spark strength and sense of purpose. I've seen him fight past red lining, giving us hope when we had forgotten what it felt like," Jazz explained, his working hand tracing across her helm and down across her features and neck lines to reassure. His intimate touch over sensitive plating easing his system as her energy overlays calmed, Solspark fully trusting the mech that now realized how deep her trust in him ran.

"The Matrix didn't draw on me this time, actually helped. I'm slagged from the stun ray. Too close to my medical locks," she explained, her words getting softer with each one. Jazz watched her slip into recharge before ordering Arcee to block any visitors without Prowl and his approval or Optimus Prime's.

"Where are you going?"

"To a funeral," Jazz answered, locking his arm as movement triggered pain.

"Whose?" Arcee asked, not sure if he was serious with his lack of expression.

"Haven't decided yet."

Inside the break room, Hot Rod sat at the farthest table back reviewing the ancient files on his datapad. "Not many can sneak up on me,' he greeted Jazz, noting the arm sling before gesturing at the chair across the table. A tap of his fingers and the file on former Primes closed, encryptions sealing it tight to his specific energy signature. He turned the datapad upside down, as if challenging the Ark's best spy to find out what was on it.

"What is Solspark to you?" Jazz asked bluntly, Hot Rod's status one wrong answer from being 'removable' instead of 'dangerous' as he confronted him.

"Sister of my spark."

"Meaning?"

"We tease and irritate each other. I stand by her, offering advice on problems she struggles with. She helps me with situations I get into. We share experiences without judgment on what we have done or should have done and are there for each other. If she falls, I pick her up once I'm done laughing. If I fall, it's her doing, or Arcee's. I love her but not as a mech to a femme. And if you break her spark, there will be no place in this universe you can hide from me and the wrath I will bring to you," Hot Rod warned, standing to reinforce his greater height and frame build.

Jazz glared, tempted to snap his spare visor up to reveal full optics but didn't as he stood. "You are only missing if they never find the frame youngling. Do not threaten me. I have offlined for a lesser insult to my honor than you questioning my commitment to Solspark. As my mate, she is everything to me. You are nothing."

"I do so love these spark to spark family discussions," Kup commented in a dry tone, drawing their attention to the Wrecker team standing in the doorway, the Ark Ops team standing ahead of them by the wall. Minus Solspark, Arcee and Magnus. Most of the mechs were damaged and showed signs of temporary repairs but they were present and upright.

"If you two are done threatening to tear each other apart," Springer began, the vehemence of revenge in his voice clear. "We got a lead on the virus source. Are you up for the hunt?"

_To be continued…_

_Author's Notes: Thank you for the reviews and continued reading. When Jazz overrode med bay protocols, Prowl said Ultra Magnus had the double overrides too instead of Prime. Used here when his systems activated under the virus to allow Magnus blaster and combat systems inside the room. Roll out and transform for battle!_


	11. Chapter 11 Hunting shadow and sparks

Hot Rod and Jazz turned to face the assembled teams, their rivalry on standby as they listened. The break room an unexpected meeting place as both Wreckers and the Ark Operations bots assembled, many needing repairs as the situation report began.

"We intercepted a 'Con communication that the virus was meant for another. Ultra Magnus opened a data box he shouldn't have, designated for Optimus Prime only. We don't know why Magnus did, but he did thereby unleashing the virus. It was a delivery from Soundwave before the battle with Shockwave, a set up. Shockwave would hurt Ultra Magnus and he is transported here for repairs and they knew he would bring the data box for Prime only he didn't after being hurt but opened it himself," Blurr reported super fast as he always did.

"Soundwave got it from a mercenary named Black Shadow. He works for any bot willing to pay whatever he demands as a price. We confirmed he made the deal here on earth based on signal triangulation and is still here with a buddy of his until payment is received," Hound continued the narrative.

"How much is Optimus worth?" Jazz growled, the threat to Optimus overriding his irritation with the young Wrecker standing nearby.

"A Matrix," Bumblebee answered.

"WHAT!"

"Least you agree on that," Springer noted as they shouted simultaneously.

"What Matrix?" Jazz snapped, sending Arcee a command to lock Solspark in the Ark and never leave her alone until he sent otherwise. Further orders to follow.

"Matrix or a Prime?" Hot Rod snapped a second later, sending a private comm to Arcee to make sure both femmes were always fully armed and ready to fight. Explanations later.

"Black Shadow wants the Matrix of Leadership that Optimus Prime carries. The virus takes him out and it passes to another making it vulnerable to theft in whoever has it next. What else?" Hound clarified, seemingly confused as the others at their line of questioning.

"That's why we are keeping Optimus out of this. We tracked the signal location and felt like dropping in a welcoming party," Skids added.

"And take on the Decepticon army?" Hot Rod asked.

"Intel says even the Decepticons don't trust him. Black is known to betray the buyer mid deal without warning. Decepticons are keeping their distance from a bot willing to sell their own partner out for enough," Kup explained.

"He is a loose wire. No energon off them if Black Shadow or his entourage goes missing. And we owe him for what he did to Magnus," Springer reminded, the deadliness of his tone clear.

"Half of you are on the injured list and couldn't catch a cyber glider moth right now let alone this level of threat," Jazz noted, ignoring his own slung arm.

"That's why I will be accompanying as military strategist," Prowl's announcement could have been screamed and not caused a wilder reaction to his presence. One wing door crumpled and the other hanging low, the security enforcer and designated commander braced in the doorway. "You will need every tactical advantage."

"And who will be running the Ark?" Springer asked, exchanging a surprised look with Kup.

"Ratchet. His is fourth in command as highest medical and fully capable of handling a lesser crew. Optimus returns tomorrow night with the Elita's femmes and the South American exploration team. I would like to welcome him home without the concern of targeted attacks. Skyfire can fly us in with repairs ongoing en route before the target changes locations. The Aerialbots are returning from their training early and will team with the Dinobots to protect our treasures here until we return," Prowl explained.

"Then what are we waiting for lads?" Kup asked, sub spacing his musket laser to check the charge. "Let's go hunting."

"Is it me or are these earth visits getting weirder?" Hot Rod wondered, watching the various mechs checking weapons, doing repairs on the run or transforming and lining up to be transported once they shifted outside.

"Weirder is Prowl on this mission," Kup noted, rubbing the back of his helm with his hand.

"He's a strategist. You heard him," Hot Rod countered looking over and seeing the black and white armored mech consulting with Jazz and Skyfire, neither intimidated by the towering flyer. Arcee pinged in another message, her fury plain at being left but understanding she needed to fight alongside Solspark even if no bot explained why.

"I heard him say, to protect our treasures here," Kup quoted, gesturing back towards the Ark.

"And?"

"Prowl runs on logic. Reasoning conducted according to strict principles."

"His job is being Prime's right hand for running this place and Prime was the virus target," Springer reminded. The overlaid damage on his armor belied the missing propeller blades for his helicopter transform, a sealing cap over the transform cog. The dragging effects of the stun ray faded under his pain as he moved, resolute with purpose that made him Second In Command of the Wreckers.

"Treasures are plural. Mech didn't make a mistake picking that word," Kup stated firmly.

"How does that help us?"

"It's personal. This isn't a mission or revenge, it's to protect. Best motivator in the galaxy are ones of the spark."

"I care about Magnus, Prowl can get in line after I reach Dark Shadow," Springer growled, gesturing to them to transform and load into Skyfire's cargo bay as the super size flier transformed down into his jet mode.

"Of all the circuit glitched dim wittery. He is allowed on this raiding party while Blurr and Trailbreaker are ordered to stay behind and they have lesser injuries," Kup grumped, watching as Springer crawled on, literally on his hands and knees with his both vehicle transforms disabled.

"Eta two hours maximum flight. Every bot strap in, going to push it," the ancient scientist warned while firing up his turbos to their max capability and closing his bay doors. The bots inside braced as his jet mode rumbled before racing ahead and powering to a nearly straight up ascent into the atmosphere to hit the jet stream.

::Well?:: Arcee sent to Hot Rod on their encrypted Wrecker frequency.

::We are loaded inside Skyfire and going silent shortly. No contact until the mission is complete:: Hot Rod

::You said explanations later. It is later. And I love the upgrade you picked for Solspark by the way:: Arcee

::Thanks. An earlier conversation with her provided the processing. And you would not believe the explanation even if I told you:: Hot Rod countered, bracing on his alt wheels as the Jet underneath him shuddered. He trusted the ancient scientist but the idea of being inside and physically surrounded by another mech was still disconcerting to the younger warrior.

::The fact she is or was a Prime? Using my spark pattern numbers as your security code made it easy to crack your files:: Arcee stated, snickering with hearing the sputtering on the other end of the comm line. ::Never say a word to the rest, Wreckers honor. And I prefer the red armor cleaning brush, not the blue one you listed for me on your gift list::

::Fine. Don't let me keep any secrets. You understand what this assassin will do if we fail and he finds you both?:: Hot Rod

::I get my chance to take his spark without backup. Challenge accepted but if you are worried then don't fail. Jazz and Prowl sent me orders to keep her safe without detail, so I am guessing they know and won't say. I will have to try and guess what they use for passwords. Bring me back a souvenir and I call dibs on the next hunting mission. Wreck and rule brother:: Arcee sent, closing the line.

In the recharge room, Solspark vented softly. The transmission line closed without either Wrecker knowing she had listened in. Hot Rod and Jazz wanting to protect her made her feel cherished even as she struggled with the why. 'More bots now know I was a Prime than half my existence as a Matrix Carrier on Cybertron yet not bot is condemning or believe less of me. I do not understand. Was Alpha Trion wrong keeping me hidden and locked down?'

A soft knock on the recharge door warned her before Arcee slid it open. 'You still online Sols? If not, walk it off femme. You got homework from Jazz and I want company," Arcee grinned, gesturing to join her in the other room.

"High grade is in the far cabinet, code lock on it from Prowl but I bet you can break it in a breem," Solspark offered.

"I will save it for celebrating when they return. My status is on duty aft kicker and I want nothing to interfere with my spark taking."

"You always this fight happy?" Solspark raised an optic arch, moving into the main meeting area.

"Wreck and Rule. Evil never rests, why should we?"

"Hmm, not sure I want to answer that one."

"Have to," Arcee pointed at the datapad. "You need to continue lessons on ethics and morality. Important stuff. Dry, boring and required but important to some bot."

"A training requirement for all Operations. I actually covered the subject as medical and other studies," Solspark noted, settling into her favorite chair. A gift from Bluestreak for the new quarters, the adjustable recliner fitting her frame comfortably no matter how she shifted, with the soft blue color reflecting her armor colors.

"Answer this. How are the Autobots different than the Decepticons and did you choose or were drafted?" Arcee asked, a pink armored finger tapping the datapad. She listened to the standard answer from Solspark with a few details added.

"And that is why I joined the Autobots."

"Why not remain a neutral? Scientist and Medical were neutrals early on and during most of the war. Wheeljack is still a civilian scientist."

"Autobots were not fighters in the beginning, for no bot has the right to take another's spark. Neutrals often refused to join either side due to indifference but as the war progressed they either were victims or learned to step up. I was sparked after the war started and saw the results of not doing something. Autobots are defenders who sometimes sacrifice themselves for others."

"Decepticons die by the thousands for Megatron and Starscream on their orders. Are they defenders?"

"No. Autobots protect the defenseless, those who cannot take care of themselves like the wounded and we stand between the enemy in front of us and those we love behind us."

"And when we offline sparklings? How are we any different than the Decepticons?"

"What?"

Arcee became serious, her optics focusing on a spot on the far wall. "A mission vorns ago when the Wreckers were trying to capture Shockwave. He had disappeared off the radar and we tracked him from his victims, he was taking their sparks into portable containment cases and leaving a trail of empty shells. A brilliant evil scientist, command knew either we stopped him then or dealt with a bigger problem later. Intel figured weapons design was his game. It wasn't."

"What was he doing?" Solspark asked, switching her processor modes up without realizing it. Had her energy overlays been normalized instead of Matrix enhanced she might have caught them but didn't. The specialized programming similar to the coding altering her optics layered in, the Matrix created codes accepted into base programming as normal and routine even as it remained fragmented.

"Cloning. Or so we processed at the time of the raid. We found his lab more by accident and discovered eight containment chambers with monsters inside. Claws, horns and twisted frame shapes but they were close to being completed and released. The things were leader class size with a warrior protoform and natural weaponry. We blew the lab to the Well of Sparks using energon grenades at the power cores. Then we found out later they were sparklings, created from the stolen sparks as a breeding program by Shockwave to create Predacon level warriors. We offlined innocent lives not even hatched. So tell me Solspark, how are the we different than the Decepticons?"

"Intent and practice," she answered, feeling the need to have Arcee understand with the pain clear on the other femme's face.

"That fixes everything."

"Your intent was to stop a greater evil and not destroy sparklings. Hear me out," she raised a hand as Arcee started to counter. "Things go wrong, sparks are taken. Whether a mistake on the surgical table or friendly fire on the battlefield or an innocent caught in the crossfire. Our intent is not to target them. If happened once, twice or things go wrong. But we do not aim for it. Decepticons would blow the lab to offline the sparklings then target them again and again. They raided the youth sectors to get recruits and killed any who refused. The weak and unarmed are a chosen target. Decepticons choose to inflict pain as part of a normal protocol. You made a mistake in discerning them as clones. Decepticons a hundred vorns later would create a mission target to offline sparklings knowing it hurts us. Practice. Our horror we carry with regret they embrace and celebrate and plan for. Cruelty is their tool and destruction the result by design and choice. War is horrible and has devastated our race and nearly destroyed Cybertron. If the Decepticons laid down their weapons there would be no more war. If the Autobots laid down their weapons there would be no more Autobots, Earth, Cybertron or anywhere in the galaxy not under Lord Megatron's enslavement. That is why the Primes lead and why we fight."

"Fight to the end." Arcee agreed.

"Here is another difference. Any Decepticon can lay down their allegiance and join the Autobots. We offer medical aid to their wounded and keep prisoners in a brig. What happens to an Autobot they capture? Yes, ask Bumblebee. Intent and practice. They can walk away, and the war will end. Do I want to know what the next lesson question is?"

"That wasn't on here actually, " Arcee admitted, smirking and waving the datapad in the air.

"Say what?"

"Questions are on the differences between stealing from a fellow bot, confiscation of items for protection and war prizes or applying restrictive access to certain dangerous items. I wanted to see your processes on hard situations," Arcee laughed, tossing Solspark the datapad.

"You are a twisted spark you know that?"

"And that's why you love me."

**MONTANA STATE, USA**

"We are approaching the coordinates indicated," Skyfire's deep vocal echoed throughout his frame, alerting them as holographic displays flashed across his inner walls. Dead trees sagged over a barren landscape pockmarked with stubby bushes, no animal or high life signs detected on the long-range scanners.

"What happened here? The surface has been eroded and destroyed. Did the 'Cons do that? Deep core ion charges?" Bumblebee asked, peering at the relayed image. He paused in the repair on Mirage's leg, one of the few bots short enough to stand upright in the hold and work in his bi pedal mode.

"No, human made. That is the result of strip mining, an abandoned rock quarry to be specific. They retrieve the phosphate, releasing the byproduct selenium into the environment. In small amounts it keeps humans functioning. Here, the selenium poisoned the native aquatic life and made the land uninhabitable for indigenous species," Prowl noted, his alt mode appearing odd with the passenger door missing and bent roofing. The injury too complicated and sensitive to repair, the mech had allowed Jazz to amputate before sealing the energon lines. The cutting and welding to forcible remove it had hurt grievously. Only Jazz knew Prowl had offlined all communications and his vocals to hide the scream of anguish at the procedure, unable to lock out enough of his own damaged sensors. Ratchet's or Prime's wrath at their actions would be dealt with later, providing they all returned.

"Hiding in the middle of devastation, sounds like a 'Con base all right," Hound commented, his Army jeep alt mode the closest vehicle to the bay doors alongside Mirage's racer.

"Get ready. We have one shot at a coasting roll out," Skyfire warned with his engines shutting off abruptly into silence. "I'm going to glide in to unload then blast up beyond tracking range in the upper atmosphere without going subsonic."

"Glide not land?" Hot Rod echoed, feeling gravity pulling in rapid descent as wind whistled by the metal exterior.

"On my mark, releasing bay doors and ramp down now," Skyfire prepped, gauging the narrow distance precisely.

"Mark!" All the alt modes rocked at the skipping impact before rolling out backwards down the ramp and spreading out to the sides, the warriors transforming up with weapons hot. Springer balanced kneeling on Kup's alt mode to ride his way out before rolling off and onto his feet pads.

"Skyfire is running out of air space," Kup gasped, as the ancient red and white jet literally nosed straight up to stall on his tail fins, transforming. Skyfire spun on his feet pads, tearing up earth trenches to the dying forest edge, his arms swinging to keep balance before transforming straight up, feet tucking up as his nose pointed skyward and blasting straight up like a rocket. Trees cracked and fell in the after wash, the sound muted as their husks collapsed, the wood poisoned and rotted from the core.

"Did Prime teach him that?" Jazz asked, recognizing the spinning pattern to slow momentum and keep control.

"More uses than just the battlefield," Prowl confirmed, running multiple scenarios simultaneously with continuous updating. "Scouts go! We should be undetected. The rest of you continue repairs and standby for action."

"Reminds me of the sneak attack on Tri Citi Galvez. We could have used Prowl's expertise in strategy then," Kup commented while watching Hound, Bumblebee, and Mirage move out.

"A war story? Everywhere reminds you of somewhere else you have already been," Hot Rod teased, waiting.

"Comes with experience lad. And you're living one now." Kup replied, scanning for danger.

**DARK SHADOW BASE, MONTANA, USA**

"Got some funny readings on the base," Hound noted, displaying the shifting image in a 3-d hologram for all to see. Bumblebee and Mirage remained at the site, observing and tracking movement while he reported back.

"It's not a base, it's a ship. A DVX class Heavy Transport. Capable of faster-than-light travel and armed with high-energy lasers and plasma torpedoes and buried three quarters of the way in the loose rocks," Prowl detailed, recognizing it.

"We need a way in without disturbing half that rock pile," Kup noted.

"Springer, you are our flyer. Where would you land for entry?' Prowl asked, waiting for confirmation.

"There," the green armored triple changer pointed at a side hatch image. "Rest are too easy to target, and I would keep them locked. Land here," he tapped the screen. "Slide in and go."

"I confirm. Ground team one will make entry there," Prowl tapped the hatch marking it red. "Team two stand perimeter then clear engine room and launch bays," his hand tapped multiple spots around the ship. "Team three will breach this side to rescue team one and two or keep an escape route clear upon my command should the unexpected occur."

"You're expecting resistance that strong?"

"Would not be a strategist if I did not have contingency plans active and Black Shadow makes his living from offlining our kind, Decepticon and Autobot alike with the worst of methods and stolen technology," Prowl reminded. The mechs spread out, filing into teams as Jazz conferred with Prowl quietly.

"Which team is Jazz on?" Kup prodded, seeing an equal split between skill specialties and weapon users among the strike teams.

"None. He doesn't need a team," Skids commented, uploading his spare rocket piece.

"Is he really that dangerous?"

"Reputation says so. The number of sparks he has taken is a highly restricted count, but I wouldn't challenge him. No bot here would."

**SHADOW SHIP SITE, ENTRY TEAMS**

::I don't like this. Are we sure this is not a trap? No alarms or trigger guards in place on any doorway yet:: Bumblebee sent, moving into the second hallway unimpeded. Hound trailed at the outer doors, ensuring the passage remained clear behind them as the other team made entry before catching up.

::Probably feels confident in his own ship. Megatron and crew hid in the downed Nemesis for almost a year while we processed them offline:: Mirage reminded, suddenly blocking Bumblebee and pointing down as he materialized out of the air.

::Laser grid trip lines:: Bumblebee confirmed. Transforming his outer fingers, the tool enhancements made sort work of the wall control panel. :Basic wiring, standard location panel and I would say arrogant not confident::

::Would you look at that:: Hound soundlessly whistled, the sound transmitting over the comm lines as he moved into the chamber with them. The room's clear plasma cases, floor to ceiling, wall to wall displayed a trove of varied items. No labels or plaques identified them yet recognizable as Cybertronian.

::Sending images now. Anything worth grabbing on our way out let us know:: Bumblebee sent the images rapidly and wide signal.

::Confirming authenticity of items. Payments or trophies of Dark Shadow:: Prowl replied.

::Hey look:: Bumblebee stopped in front of a wide but low-level case.

::Is that?:: Hot Rod asked, recognizing the shape transmitted in the images.

::A replica of Megatron's arm cannon, flattened with tread marks:: Mirage said.

::Not a replica. Prime flattened it in battle by running over it on Simfur and it was never found. A prize or payment, target is not above extortion or robbery even from his own buyers:: Prowl corrected.

::I claim dibs for Arcee. She asked for a souvenir and every femme likes bad aft weaponry:: Hot Rod sent.

::Can we get on with this already? The only Prize I want is Dark Shadow's head for Magnus when he on lines. And keep the chatter down. This is a mission not a training conference:: Springer sent, his team clearing the engine room the deck below.

Across the ship, two sets of red optics watched the mechs moving through their ship intently from the flight console. Blue Bacchus snorted, tapping out entries to identify the ones currently in the engine room. "Wrecker and Autobot. No threat. Pity they die so easily, or it might be a challenge. We should double our payment request for dealing with them if there wasn't only one Prime left." The blue armored mech sneered, bracing against the console with his arms. Sleek and taller, he reflected his streamline spaceship form unlike his boss's solid frame.

Dark Shadow vented, agreeing with his criminal partner. None of them were categorized a threat level to his systems, their kind lacking the cruelty of the Decepticons or other space races known for conquering. "Bacchus buy me some time. I need to initialize the Apex armor to wear it. Then meet me north escape hatch. Let these fools roll here while we lay our next trap."

"How? I cannot defeat that many spread out even with my speed draw. And my anti-gravity puller won't work in these close quarters."

"Strike at a few then use your bargaining skills. Show them a prize, one that will enrage them and then take their sparks with your precision shooting. Autobot emotions are their weakness, caring and honor and duty to their Prime. Blah. Wipe the corridor with their sentimental frames and while the others mourn their fallen and wonder if they are the next victims we leave," Dark Shadow ordered.

Fifteen minutes later, Prowl swore at the injury report before updating scenarios. ::Evacuate out Bumblebee and Springer. Rest continue high alert and engage. Confirm injury to target?::

::Blue Bacchus and not a fatal hit. Bumblebee tagged him before going down. Slagger used hidden panels. Dropped in, fired and disappeared this ship section. Bumblebee's modifications protected his spark and Springer's armor slagged but held or we could have lost them both. Target is leaving an energon trail but I am unable to pursue:: Hound growled, the anger in his tone clear.

::On it. He's in my lane:: Jazz sent, realizing the backside of the hidden panel crossed into his narrow hallway between storage rooms. Energon colored drops on the floor confirmed the other's path as he moved.

Jazz stopped, tracking fluid drops to the ship hallway's corner's edge. His enhanced optics spun behind the visor, analyzing each drop pattern to recognize the last two were different with their shapes drawn out by rapid movement. His arm shield spun into place as he crouched anticipating the attack, the incoming blast reflected straight back automatically. White arc light dappled across the wall reflecting as the sounds of metal crunching had him peering over the shield's rounded edge.

Blue Bacchus leaned on the wall, his mid riff armor smoking and cratered, the damaged blaster falling from his hand with Jazz's reflected attack. Scorch marks from Bumblebee's blaster crossed his chest frame as energon seeped out the small hole on his left side. "You! I traded with you galaxy wide on stolen artifact cargo information for energon. The Cybertronian bounty on my head is greater than all your payments combined but you are not here for that are you? Is it revenge or do you seek a treasure? Glory in victory? I have faced greater than you little mech and survived. Your shield will make a nice addition to this prize."

Dull in the light, the sword subspaced down Bacchus arm from his shoulder to nearly touch the floor. The sword's elongated handle was scrolled with ancient glyphs with the double honed edge blade clearly designating it a Transformer relic. "Took this from a Prime on Cybertron. He fought two battles after his title announcement. Then the sword became mine, as his spark was no longer in being Prime, or should I say in him after I shattered it!" He laughed, a dark hollow sound of cruelty intermixed. "A pity it won't light. Only a worthy carrier of a Matrix can ignite it or so the hilt glyphs state. The Prime perished begging me to spare his troops, worthy of only contempt for his weakness. What are you worthy of?" He raised the sword, tip out. "Tell me Autobot, will you offline to save your friends and family?"

_To be continued…_

_Author's Notes: Shockwave lab and the sparklings are from Transformers Prime episode where he was cloning Predacons. Technically they were adult clones ready to fight but I have seen the argument made for being sparklings as new. And Solspark's upgrade from Hot Rod will be revealed later. Until all are one._


	12. Chapter 12 Dark Shadow, sword & Apex

Blue Bacchus twirled the ancient sword before dragging the tip across the floor. His actions demonstrating a clear disregard for its sacred history and the threat of open combat he faced in Jazz. Energon seeped from his side wound, a testament to Bumblebee's accuracy earlier even as the younger scout had been nearly offlined in the surprise attack. The near fatal miss failed to affect the killer's arrogance as he taunted. "You haven't answered. What are you worthy of Autobot? Or are you stalling waiting for help? There is no bot coming to save you." The ship's narrow corridor echoed his venting, Bacchus system running high as Jazz remained silent, every sound masked by his battle mode. "What will I be to you? The last face you see? Your friends will die one by one before me unless you make the ultimate sacrifice. Will you be offlined for them?"

"No, but I will offline for them." Jazz straightened; his arm shield facing outward. The blast caught Bacchus dead center of his faceplates, shattering the armored metal plating. Sputters of flame and arc flashes mixed with rolling smoke as wiring and sensitive parts slagged. The near headless frame slumping to the floor with the dark mech never realizing the shield's center spinner was not an arm brace, but a high-power blaster.

Jazz fired twice more, crackling metal sounds echoing as he breached Bacchus chest armor to shatter the spark below. "You are nothing to me but ugly. And your manifest of murder stops here." Jazz claimed the sword, tucking it into a subspace pocket across his back for positive identification later. The glyphs on the sword relic filtering through Jazz's tactical relays, a subroutine identifying the word 'carrier' not the same as 'Prime.' The ancient glyph with multiple meanings including guardian and holder of a sleeping Matrix. 'Worth investigating later with Sols,' he processed, sending the signal to the other Autobots one was down, main target still in play.

::Kill confirmed. Both Bumblebee and Springer will survive. Evac them out once the Wrecker shuttle arrives:: Prowl answered back.

::Copy direct:: Jazz acknowledged, recognizing that while the shuttle's flight time was slower, Skyfire was being reserved for mass casualty or emergency rescue. Worse case, his speed and power to warn the Ark crew if they failed in the current mission.

::Team Two has disabled ship engines and are locking all routes of escape now:: Prowl updated before focusing his attention outward as Hot Rod sealed the temporary spark spires under Springer's spark. He made a processor note to research the young mech's advanced medical skills alongside a reminder to update Solspark's medical files.

::Moving down to next deck, multiple access doors. We need coverage if any bot is free:: Mirage sent, pinging his location on the upper deck.

::On my way. Recon from the west end and meet ya at center:: Jazz answered. Moving stealthy, he rapidly cleared the deck and began climbing the ladder up to the next level. Reaching the floor, he raised slowly, agilely clambering onto the deck as sensors confirmed it was empty. A flash of light startled him as the visor fritzed, his optics shuttering as sensory scans exploded across his vision.

::Scrambler in play! Floor two and high power:: Jazz warned, taking his visor off. Intent on adjusting the visor's settings, he almost missed it. As a human would react to a single strand of woven spider silk across their face he reacted to the momentary flicker of an electronic signal. Jazz spun, systems compensating a nano second too slow. His optics widened as the powered fury blast poured his way. Unable to dodge and flip off the wall with his broken arm, he curled inward, twisting.

The strike's energy crackled across his armor, missing vital systems but not the visor, shattering it into pieces. 'Scrap! That was my only spare!' Brilliant blazing blue optics met red narrowed ones as Dark Shadow stepped out into the hallway. The mech matching Optimus for size and armored power moved a step closer.

"Well met scout. Your fellow bots were not so lucky at dodging," the stocky red and black mech stated, no emotion in his tone.

"A trait shared by your partner Bacchus," Jazz challenged back, rising on his feet pads gracefully.

"A negligible loss. I retain full profit and new partners can be hired. Every bot can be bought for a price. What is yours?"

"I already have what I want. There is nothing in this universe you could offer," Jazz countered, feeling the softest sensor ping and Hound and Mirage neared, both in stealth modes.

"Misguided fool. Everything is for sale. Even the spark of a Prime," Dark Shadow sneered.

"Never." Jazz backflipped without warning, letting Hound's shoulder rocket pass over his moving form. The backwash warmed across his metal plating as it flew past. The rocket hit, sliding Shadow's form backwards the length of the corridor without major damage. Hound frowned, seeing only smoke curling around the mech as the ship rocked with the force. Jazz stared, half sitting half leaning on the wall fritzing with arm pain and newer injuries. His multi layered optics spun, discerning what the others could not. 'Outer shell modified with an inner being. Huh, one of us. Basic vehicle mode and a flyer. A crossformer. Keep him pinned inside the ship corridors and he is limited.'

"Two or two hundred makes no difference, " Dark Shadow clambered onto his feet pads, glaring. The deadly black and red armored mech sneered as Mirage formed into existence. "Scout, thief and an upper-class bot. Hardly worth the energy to extinguish your sparks." His quasar rifle fired again as Hound and Jazz cross rolled to duck below the blast as Mirage disappeared. The mech spun, his black arm reaching out sending a silent signal for opening the nearest wall panel. A small bladed shape whizzed by the other direction, the deep scream confirming it embedded in as Shadow escaped. The door sealed close as multiple weapons fire peppered across it.

"Difference that! My static dagger locked in," Mirage crowed, appearing and running past the pair.

Hound helped Jazz up, keeping his optics averted from the intense blazing ones of his boss. "Do you need medical?"

"No. Meet up with the others and cover the outer exits. A Cyber rat like that will scurry first chance," Jazz ordered.

"You sure? He seems dangerous and his reputation is," Hound began. A scout, he had never been comfortable with the most violent of the warriors and Shadow fit that category. He wanted payback for Bumblebee's injuries but not at the expense of more harm to his friends.

"Nah, it's a cover. He was an Elite guard, assigned to the Allspark Temple then removed when caught stealing artifacts. Sentenced to an outer moon base holding then disappeared during a Decepticon raid. His flight ends here. Status Mirage?"

"He is two levels down in a lift, moving north upon exiting. You can track him using my dagger lock," Mirage reported. How or what Jazz knew was never questioned, accepted after his own indescribable rescue from the Decepticon base by Jazz and Prowl.

Levels down, Dark Shadow's wavering form stumbled out through another hidden wall panel into his lab, a room added between engine areas and on no ship's schematic. Leaning against the worktable, he twisted back and forth writhing to grab the impaled dagger. 'Bah, beyond my reach." Blue energon leaked out his back wound, the blade piercing down to his black protoform.

"Impossible. I cannot be defeated. A stray shot, our next encounter will not be in their favor," he ground out, keying open an armored vault box. Nestled inside lay a seeming ordinary silver colored metal square. A tap of his hand and it began glowing blue, charging to full use. Transforming sounds signaled his discarding of outer shell armor, his true form smaller with folded in wings. A scream of agony filled the space as the dagger wiggled without pulling out, slicing deeper into lay lines near his spark. Folded nearly in two in suffering, he missed the wall door sliding open.

Blazing blue optics narrowed in, traces of red filtering through the color as emotions spiraled. "Face me crossformer that I may take your face." Jazz challenged, startled without showing it as his arm shield folded itself away back into subspace.

"Too late!" Slapping the silver square on his chest plates, the device hummed loud before glowing blue shielding formed around Dark Shadow, his head and upper shoulder plates contained in a clear shimmering bubble. "Your weapons are useless Autobot. Only mine work within this room, the program stolen from medics as I branded their faces. You could not overpower this Apex armor suit even without your injuries, designed by our ancestors to withstand radiation and unsurvivable conditions during the great cataclysm on Cybertron." The silver blue shaped shielding glowed around the mech, its power humming as though a physical sign of its immense strength.

"You betrayed everything you once stood for as an Elite Guard and the oaths we swore to protect. You are nothing but a relic whore, enslaved to the highest buyer," Jazz countered, using an emotional tactic to stall as his systems failed to respond.

_BATTLE MODE DOWN_

_WEAPONS AND SHIELDING OFFLINE_

_STEALTH SYSTEMS DISABLED _

_COMMUNICATIONS OFFLINE_

"Betrayed? The Grand Council chose me as a Prime candidate, that lowly half powered thing rejected me! Me! The only subsize Seeker to defeat Starscream in the pits of Kaon. I am worthy of a Matrix. Yet fate had a better challenge for my skills. More profitable. Your spark, however, I will take for free," Dark Shadow nearly spit the words out, the blue energon running down his side sizzling as it hit the energy barrier.

Jazz shifted, all his counter measures failing until a soft warmth flowed down his back. He reached behind his helm to feel the confiscated sword forming out of subspace, its lock set to Bacchus and actively allowed in the room.

"That artifact is as dead as Cybertron. Metal alone cannot cut this armor and the power required to ignite it you do not possess. I will take the spark of Optimus and all who challenge me to become the leader we should have had," Dark Shadow boasted, reaching for his rifle laying on the workstation table.

'Challenge. Equal as your own, one half.' And Jazz focused on Solspark. The danger he now faced, the threat to her if this bot escaped. He might offline, but by Primus he would last long enough to take the pit spawn mech in front of him down or injured enough the others could finish him. Their existence giving him a pure purpose for battling.

Dark Shadow froze mid reach, as the sword blazed bright.

In the hallway Mirage swore. "Pit! Dagger is out. Signal lost."

"He removed it?" Hound guessed, scanning the walls for a sliding panel. The others were blocking exits, they were backing up Jazz, having traced the signal to the area. Their bosses sudden lack of response or orders worrying them both minutes before.

"Probable. Or destroyed it. No energy signature to track." Both spun, weapons up as the wall panel across from them opened.

Jazz stood there, with nearly purple optics reflecting in the light of a blazing sword. The sword went dark as he took a step, shifting his broken arm forward. Both mechs recoiled, giving him room to move.

::Springer, I have your prize. All teams return to extraction point. Threat contained:: Jazz sent wide signal. Walking, half staggering with low energy his feet pads left splotches of blue energon smeared with dark oils on each step, mixing with the fluids dripping from the severed head. The long sword in his good hand was held off the floor but barely.

"It's not his fluids," Mirage noted, no injuries on Jazz's legs or lower frame. Neither bot moved until Jazz cleared the hallway, following him from a distance.

"About Jazz's reputation?"

"Earned."

Mirage went invisible, moving slowly towards Jazz as a precaution. "Lean on me, let me guide you back. Keep your optics closed."

No bot stopped them the entire way to the shuttle, letting Jazz through until he reached Springer onboard it, the unconscious warrior strapped upright in a jump seat. Mirage stepped aside, forming into existence and moving forward to the pilot's seat. Jazz sat the severed head by Springer's feet pads for when he on lined.

"How lad?" Kup asked.

"Carrier…not Prime…Matrix sleep…..should have studied… glyphs more," Jazz swayed, breaking off. Kup caught him as he collapsed, with Prowl reaching out grab the sword, swinging the deadly honed edge away from them.

"That's a Prime sword. Is he a?"

"No," Prowl stated firmly as the others lowered Jazz into an open seat. "It's a Cybertron relic. Primes carry the Matrix's passed on from Prime to Prime. This is comparable to Optimus energon rifle. If you can lift and fire his rifle you are only a weapon holder. Elita One carries her mate's previous rifle and is no Prime." He lifted the sword, optics slowing as he focused, his sole wing door dipping down as he relaxed. The sword blazed with light. "Any Autobot here could light this sword if his spark is clear of hate and greed. I will retain if for safe keeping until we reach the Ark. Kup, you are in charge here. I will return with the incapacitated wounded to base."

"You are one of the wounded junior," Kup reminded, with a chuckle sound under his vocals.

"Physical injuries do not impair my calculations or logic abilities. I am returning to resume command of the Ark and thereby release medical command to focus on medical priorities," Prowl reminded, ignoring their looks as he slid into the seat sideways and shifted his hips in an undignified manner to balance with only one wing door.

Jazz reached out, soft venting upon touching the arm of his friend. ::Energy levels are falling. I will make it back but barely and were you twerking?::

::No. Pain coding needs updating. Once in the air we can access the spare energon and began repairs:: Prowl

::More dings and dents than anything. Solspark can knock them out in a spark beat. How are you holding up?:: Jazz

::Field operational though I did disable long distance medical communications:: Prowl admitted.

::Ratchet's threats got that bad?:: Jazz

:: Based on the creativity of the penalty if we delay much longer, it is beyond bad into near catastrophic:: Prowl vented softly.

::Sounds about normal for us:: Jazz felt across the others front grill work. ::Ya know Prowler:: he reached out and tapped above the spark armor seam. ::You got room under there. Space like my frame design::

::And?:: Prowl asked, his armored hand folding over Jazz's hand before sliding it off his chest plates. He was acutely aware of the Wreckers odd looks, their misinterpreting the movement as intimate and not caring. The Ark Autobots ignored the duo having long ago adjusted to Jazz not respecting Prowl's personal space or any other bots.

::When Optimus is in med bay?:: Jazz prodded, holding hands with Prowl. Unseen, a data link activated in a palm connection as a precaution if either should be offlined before returning, a practice from their first field missions together. Memories and medical reports flowed between them, accepted and recognized as well as a renewed friendship and trust.

::He is still our Prime and will not be pleased about this mission:: Prowl stated firmly.

::You are avoiding the question buddy:: Jazz teased, leaning his helm sideways against Prowl's.

::Yes, I hold the Matrix to protect it. But only hold it. Been doing it for vorns and you are the first to realize it, smart aft:: Prowl admitted, clunking his helm against the other's before backing off.

::Prime gets the new sword?:: Jazz

::Which one?:: Prowl teased, closing the palm connection to wrap his arm around Jazz to keep the other upright and his weakened status hidden.

::Funny enforcer. Real funny. Solspark is my mate to be and I ain't tripping her out with any more adds unless she chooses them:: Jazz snarked, leaning in close knowing Prowl would recognize a glare even as his optics remained closed.

"And they call us Wreckers odd. I wasn't that close to my last bond femme," Kup said, looking anywhere but at the two mechs sitting across from him. He motioned for the others to follow him back outside. The conversation resumed once they reached the ground.

"Could they be a trine? Overheard First Aid talking about catching Solspark doing Jazz's repairs and getting in trouble."

"Who knows? We better get going on stripping that ship then repairs if we want to unload and not be carried off returning to base," Kup reminded. The shuttle closed it hatch, lifting slowly up and away as they watched while Skyfire circled, preparing to land and assist.

_To be continued…_

_Author's Notes: Thank you for the reviews and reading another chapter. I do not have a beta reader but want to give a shout out to my sister Lisa for bearing with me while bugging them for writing help. She is a professional writer. And a shout out to my ff friends from years past who still write and talk back and forth. Several more chapters are drafted and under review. Until all are one. _


	13. Chapter 13 Conversations and High Grade

"As Prime and leader of the Autobots I have full faith in the reasoning behind your actions even when I do not understand them. I have learned that over the centuries and owe you my very existence several times over," Optimus began. Sitting upright in his office chair, he kept both his hands flat on his desktop. His official office granting them both privacy for their discussion and the handling of official reports. Prowl as Second in Command remained at attention, his appearance lopsided with the missing wing door and back armor damage. Prowl didn't quite wince as his calculations predicted the next probable wording and issues.

"It is the implementation of the plan that I need clarification on," Optimus turned one hand palm up. Prowl relaxed marginally, one hand up meant puzzlement and a need to understand, both hands in the air were exasperation and fingers tapping the desktop meant anger with immediate consequences.

"There was discussion on informing you of the Ark events and the subsequent removal of the target. Based upon your history of letting teams have working autonomy, and my recognizing the need when you are to be involved such as countering Megatron, the decision was made to let you return from your mission uninterrupted. We did file critical information and updated rosters but were unable to send them and break signal silence on the approach and concurrent operations."

"I see."

Further information was required but not on the part of excluding him. Best approach was honesty and accept the consequences as metered. "Jazz erased footage of the Magnus cure to protect Solspark. Magnus does not remember anything post arrival due to damage to his systems. The Wreckers approved of the results though Springer threatened to issue a complaint on his medical removal from both incidents."

"Ratchet or his medical team authorized a change in operational status?" Optimus regal baritone deepened as he folded his arms across his simulated glass front.

If Prowl had been human he would have blushed and muttered bad, so bad. Instead his cooling fans kicked a notch higher. "Hot Rod, as a Wrecker made the determination of his teammates inability to proceed and took personal action to ensure his safety. Medical staff were not included in the operations as their primary contingency were the injured at base and Magnus recovery."

"Yet injured mechs were with you and Skyfire and no accompanying medical staff, a direct violation of mission polices as set by you and me after Mechner's space station debacle I believe," Optimus rubbed his chin plates as his optics focused on Prowl's side where he was missing the wing door.

"The raiding operation was completely volunteer and compromised of multiple bots ensuring a higher success rate. We did achieve a positive outcome plus the retrieval of multiple artifacts without actively engaging the Decepticons."

"Tell me more," Optimus stated, even as his optics narrowed.

Prowl acknowledged that Optimus knew the results, what he still wanted was details. The ancient Prime was after certain information and until he heard it the conversation would continue. The longer the conversation, the worse the emotions stirred and results to follow. "Skyfire flew us to the located base. We made entry in multiple teams and eliminated both a collateral target and Dark Shadow. Bumblebee and Springer were struck in a sneak attack. The other three newer injuries were in a chase combat scenario. We retrieved what we could from the ship both physical and data servers then set the self-destruct via its damaged engines. The unstableness of the open pit buried the ship and melted the rock around it, the humans unaware of its existence with the surrounding contamination. You and Solspark are protected as Prime targets."

"Primes will always be a target. However, being a Prime carries a certain protection as does the professionalism of the staff we rely on. I believe I placed you in charge here and Jazz over the Wreckers to facilitate training and not covert field missions."

"Affirmative and as Acting Commander I made the decision to confront a greater threat. The Dinobots and Aerialbots protected the crew here." Prowl stated, ready for the fallout at any level. The silence stretched between them, the tapping on Prime's fingers the only sign of impending doom as the bigger mech pondered actions.

"You understand I cannot protect you from Ratchet's wrath?"

Prowl nearly glitched in shock. Optimus' overriding concern was his health, accepting the events as stated. He might not fully understand or tease Prowl about it later but officially the situation had been handled. Optimus irritation was not with him or his actions with the teams but for what the mech would face in medical and recovery as a cost of those events. "Protect me?"

"Compassion is a vital trait for a leader, or I would be no better than Megatron," Optimus stated, regarding his Second In Command thoughtfully. Had the mech really processed he would be in the brig or demoted for his actions? Prime's return being challenged by the Dinobots then the Aerialbots alongside was a surprise matched only by learning the Ops team of both sets were missing on a mission. A mission without his approval or any notification and commanded by Prowl, for an unspecified target and injured mechs among the missing. Ratchet had been ready to hunt them all down and save the Decepticons the effort.

"I admit the incoming signal from the shuttle for immediate medical evacuation and triage without providing details or further communications was a calculated risk. We were unsure of the situation upon our arrival," Prowl admitted.

Optimus smiled, remembering the shuttles' descent out of the clouds observed by nearly every Ark occupant, the medical personnel foremost. The first Autobots disembarking being an injured Prowl, carrying a relic sword while assisting a limping Jazz, optics closed and missing his trademark visor. Springer supported between Mirage and Hound holding a severed mech's head, demanding that he be carried to Ultra Magnus. The other injured mechs a priority unload straight to med bay for treatment, Bumblebee's stasis form carried by Hot Rod before being transferred to an upset Ironhide. 'Seeing Bee's injuries nearly gave me a spark attack,' Optimus processed, taking a nano second to verify the encouraging update report from medical on his mech's conditions.

Prowl remained silent, reading every cue of his boss form the twitch of his radial spinner on his right side to the heavier venting.

"While I was not informed of the mission beforehand," Optimus continued their conversation, "I could not find direct fault with your actions. The Command structure existed, the wounded received medical treatment and defenders protected the Ark in my absence. Though next time specify who is in charge, the argument between Silverbolt and Grimlock could have ended differently that each dividing up half the area left and right. "

"There should not be another situation where they are left to decide command. And I understand there are medical consequences to my actions. Thank you Sir."

"Recharge and heal old friend. I will need assistance in cataloging the items your teams confiscated," Optimus chuckled, having received several reports of the sword glowing in Prowl's hands and his explanation. The earth Autobots intrigued and making bets on who could activate it next. For now, Optimus had it locked in his spare weapon's locker to be evaluated by Wheeljack. The Wreckers were more interested in the flattened cannon gifted to Arcee, a weapon Optimus wanted to forget about, both who used it and how close to defeat that battle had been.

"I will take my leave sir."

The short walk between Prime's office to his own office barely registered as Prowl relaxed. 'Not as detrimental as calculated,' he processed, sitting down at his desk. The heavier side pull of the sole door wing compensated by him adjusting spine torque to the side, dangerous over the long term as it would offset his neuro spine but necessary.

The announcing chime at his door broke his moment of peace. Prowl uncharacteristically hung his head for a moment, hiding his faceplates in his hands. 'I am not ready for this. Repairs and pain. Primus, I need a break. Even half a joor.' But he was a battle-hardened warrior and not a sparkling, so he stood at attention and keyed the door open.

"Am I disturbing?" Solspark's voice and presence caught him off guard. The blue and silver femme waited just outside his door, making no move to enter

"Please have a seat. How may I assist?" Prowl stalled, trying to calculate the reason for the visit. He had expected Ratchet to appear and drag him off, not her as he sat back down. Jazz was recovering in their quarters and the femme had steadily denied, ignored or side stepped all his attempts to gather information on her and her past.

"I wanted to thank you." Solspark stated simply, folding her hands across her lap while sitting.

"For?" Not the most intelligent lead into a conversation but Prowl's post injury pain and weariness slowed his processes.

"Saving Jazz and bringing him back safely."

"He saved us by taking down the target actually."

"I heard a short version of the events from him, though I believe there is more to the tale than either of you are willing to explain. No matter, I am grateful for your friendship with him through the centuries. His intense emotional upbeat personality can be both comforting and irritating depending on my mood. I imagine his ability to adapt and improvise is a tactical asset and a challenge to you at times."

"Challenge is not the word I would use on occasion to describe him or his actions. I have benefited from our friendship and," Prowl stopped, a split second of warning flashing with the sudden surge of an energy signature nearby, cloaked but detectable to his office security system.

The office door ground into its grooves, slamming into the wall slide as their weapons dropped out of subspace. Prowl vented as Solspark moved to protect him, unintentionally blocking his line of sight by suddenly rising and bracing with her arm blaster ready and her long sword dropping into her other hand.

"House call! Oh, am I interrupting?" Ratchet snarked then paused seeing her and not Jazz or another mech and the weapons aimed his way.

"Actually, yes. The door was shut," Solspark stated, raising an optic arch while standing down her battle protocols and returning the weapons to hiding.

"Checking on my next patient. I have found him in here, practically coded and needing care. It is not advisable he be left alone in an injured condition."

"I am medically trained, and he is not alone," Solspark reminded, moving closer to face the taller CMO. "If needed, I can call the appropriate code to summon you and administer care pending transfer. Until then, you are interrupting a delicate matter of a personal nature. Please leave and let us continue," She gestured gracefully towards the door, firm in her stance.

Ratchet's optics spun rapidly. Prowl refrained from smiling, knowing they were not a sign of confusion but a quick scan to ensure she was not a twin or some other bot pretending to be her, and her energy signatures were not off the charts with processing glitches. Ratchet's optics narrowed in, the innermost rings spiraling different directions. 'Solspark's systems are off baseline but not dangerously,' he recognized the medic's movements. Severe and he would have treated her immediately or ordered her back with him.

"You need medical care too Solspark. Your energy fields are not stable."

"I have noticed. And as a low priority triage patient not involved in current activities, I promise to schedule time for maintenance. If my condition worsens I will seek medical help."

"As one professional to another, I accept your promise. If either of you, however, continue to avoid help no door in existence will stop me! You will be welded somewhere until I can finish repairs. Understand?" The CMO threatened. His echoing sound of his stomping footsteps were cut off as the door resealed.

"Has he actually ever done that? Welded one of us?" Solspark asked, her expression showing mixed emotions as she sat back down.

"Yes. I am not allowed to release details, but I can reassure the mech in question was not myself, Prime or Jazz. And he was warned sufficiently over his weapons use and the unsanctioned raiding our CMO's supplies."

"Ah, Sunstreaker. Paint job touch up, booth four," she giggled.

His surprise hid, his measure of her processing and quick wit rose. Statistically every bot would have assumed Ironhide or Cliffjumper with his word use.

"And while I did promise maintenance or further medical care, I did not promise it to be under him," she teased while relaxing in the office chair.

"I too have used that tactic, though sparingly," Prowl admitted. As their conversation continued, he stopped counting his adjustments on her. The femme was herself, without the hiding of her personality or evasiveness of her words and actions. She did not lock down the absolute control of her frame, letting him see her emotions, conflicts and signs. His office intimidating to many, provided her a safe and secure location to relax and seek friendly conversation.

"Jazz said I should trust you more and I agree. I am beginning to understand why he relies on you," Solspark said. "And as much as I have enjoyed talking, there is another matter I need to see to. Are you functional enough to be left alone? Would not want to break our promise to our CMO."

Prowl refused to smile at her teasing tone, knowing they both could be in stasis lock on the floor before either would call Ratchet for help or his lectures in his current mood. "I am functional. I have post mission reports to file. Good joor Solspark."

The femme left, the office door sliding slowly closing, the track slightly ajar from Ratchet's rough visit. Prowl made a repair note to adjust it later. "Not letting Wheeljack or Hoist repair it this time. Last attempts had it disappearing into subspace, retracting into the ceiling then nearly guillotining me and repeated speed opening and closing until Blurr caught it."

A soft knocking pattern caught his attention. Only one mech would knock while keeping his presence totally masked from detection. "Yes Jazz?"

"Housekeeping! Just kidding. Any Primes in here, femme or flamed?" Jazz asked, striding in wearing a newly installed visor.

"She just departed. But you know that with her tracker."

"Did she?" He began, flopping in the chair and bracing his feet against the desk front.

"No. I recognized the signal," Prowl half smiled. "You hid one on me after the fourth moon base mission."

"Forgot about that. Have to develop new sneaky, err tactical adjustments to avoid detection. And are you trying to take my femme?"

"She sought me out and after our conversation, I am confident Solspark understands the nature of our three-way relationship interrelating on each of us being functional and focused," Prowl stated.

"Are we a trine like the seekers? Already heard that rumor," Jazz teased, pretending to preen down his armor.

"In a relative manner, yes. Solspark now recognizes I can be consulted by her, as much as you. And her, for lack of a better term, creative solutions should not trigger my logic glitch. Though I admit I am often at a loss to explain how she formulates them."

"You do better than I on whether they are going to work. And don't beat yourself up about the crash course last year. I saw your wings doors stiffen before she opened fire on those ion cannons that day and the few times any bot mentions it. Primus himself could not have intervened in time. The fault is mine for not realizing her unconventional processing is a Prime trait. Femme never ceases to surprise me."

"Jazz, there is something else you need to consider in regard to her motivations," Prowl warned, his tone containing the barest hesitation. Jazz vented softy, recognizing the pause was his friend's way of stating a truth, even one he might not like but needed to know.

"Lay it on me Prowler."

"She has never been with any bot intimately. Statistically guaranteed based on her reactions to you and others as well as indicators within her personal medical history," Prowl stated, his venting increasing as his systems lightly overheated. Of the many things he could handle with pure logic, personal details of a femme and his former teammate and best friend were not high on that list.

Jazz blanked, hearing the words but taking a moment to let the meaning filter in. "Ever?"

"No."

"Huh." Of all the things Prowl could have revealed that had never crossed his processors. Relief swept through Jazz, no bot from Solspark's past to create new problems by suddenly showing up or a former rejection affecting her view of him.

Prowl watched, confirming his observations of Jazz's behavior against his calculations while processing. 'Happy there is not competition. Next, self-review of anything Jazz might have said, suggested or done of an inappropriate nature to her. Review of comments or actions Solspark did not understand, now relevant to her lack of experience. Review of his personal interactions over the span of his existence and his motive and intentions in relationships. Necessary reminder in fourteen point three nano seconds.' And Prowl counted the time down.

"Jazz, Qualstar did not love you. She was a deep cover assassin who tried to kill myself and Prime. You did the right thing offlining her before she completed the mission," Prowl reminded, the full command tone to his vocals. The security enforcer watched the interplay of emotions across the other mech's face, hating the pain he still saw but understanding, having been part of the historical event. Even Jazz writing his account into an online fiction story as therapy had not healed the damage completely. Prowl remained strategically aware she was the one event Jazz would remember as a failure, both professionally and personally for having been fooled into loving her before discovering her deadly intentions.

"What am I going to do with Solspark now?" Jazz shifted the arm sling, tightening it more as a distraction than a real need as the repair welds set.

"What you always do. Adapt and improvise," Prowl answered simply, his calculations still running as the problem worked itself out in Jazz's processors. 'Acceptance of the past without undue influence on current relationship. Consideration of changing room arrangements to minimize possible discomfort of an unbonded femme, discarded rapidly due to needs of both. Protectiveness increased over her status, and a final determination to let their relationship continue. As calculated, end with a desire for high grade and friendship.

"Hey Prowl?"

"Yes Jazz," he answered neutrally, already sending a holding code to his schedule and reminder to flush his systems the next afternoon to offset what they were about to do. Especially before facing Ratchet needing delicate and critical repairs.

"I need a drink. Want to share some high grade with an old buddy?"

"You are not old because we are the same sparking cycle and that would make me old. I prefer the term aged experience. And have I ever refused?" Prowl cracked a rare smile, reaching into a desk drawer and pulling out a tall flask and two empty cubes.

Prowl on lined, his chromometer updating nearly half a joor had passed without activity. 'Almost four hours human time. No memory of where or what but I can calculate that. Hmm.'

::Stay still mech, in the middle of sealing a power line:: Jazz's comm signal familiar if fuzzy focused him. ::Keep your optics offline. I know how seeing your own parts and pieces bother ya. And purging on high grade would only add to repairs::

Prowl obeyed, centuries of trusting after half vague on lining following both his logic glitch and battle injuries. Medical codes updated him to repairs without pain, a side notation of high grade consumption being maxed. The berth under him was softer than usual and the sounds echoing back in the area made it seem smaller than his own quarters or a side room in med bay. His last memory file replayed of Jazz half lying across the office desk, wiping at his race car logo. The high grade had leaked, dripping from a crack in the cube's edge. Prowl remembered leaning forward, teasing him about needing a sparkling energon bottle and offering a cleaning rag as the office door opened. Then? Nothing. 'Who opened the door?'

A soft impact under a back plate triggered renewed sensations but no pain as he struggled to focus. Skillful hands pulling and creating connections, grid by grid restoring his wing sensors. "You're getting better at this, almost Ratchet's level without pain," Prowl hummed, the touches smooth and secure inside his systems mixing with a warmth in his lines.

"Glad you like it. Repairs going cool," Jazz answered.

"How bad is it?" Prowl asked.

"Depends on what it is. Prime's temper? You're with me and we are not in the brig so good. Magnus and Wreckers are fine. Haven't broke anything for a joor. You? Still an ugly penguin alt mode with one wing door and a bent arch plate. Fixing wiring now so Doc Grumpy won't throw a fit at my rough hack job pre-mission. Improving the layout, prepping for a door attach," Jazz answered, the slightest slur to his words.

A click on his spine core and memories returned. The fight, the teams to Dark Shadow and facing the others returning to the Ark. Medical codes updated, repairs moving swiftly. "Why does my processor report no damage? My frame feels different. And are you capable of this level of repairs? You sound affected," Prowl quizzed, feeling a moment of panic.

"High grade after buzz? Loving it, hold still." A familiar hand touched his chin, holding it firmly. Prowl had the feeling a conversation was happening he could not hear. ::Engage your locks and do not move. Online your optics first:: Jazz ordered.

::Understood:: Prowl sent the signal, not sure why the caution. Jazz's spare blue visor formed into place out of darkness, right before his optics. The smirk across the lip plates below it familiar.

"Tracking movement buddy?" Jazz asked, his other hand waving in the air

He started to say yes, until the gentle touch under his back continued, another grid sensor activating to update repair codes.

"Do not move!" Two voices commanded as he went to rise, twisting to see who was behind him. "Solspark,' he identified. And then the mural behind Jazz registered. The painted design surrounding every wall and the ceiling beyond his view of the launching tower at Iacon with the added piece for the new quarters. And that meant.

"Oh slag."

"Language mech," Solspark challenged, patting his outer shoulder armor before moving lower to tap his center strut, making him shiver. "A few more lines and I can begin attaching the side struts. I removed a fair amount of your reinforced armor down to your protoform to access connections. Do not twist and undo my work. You are not in pain are you?"

"How did, why?" He fumbled, the fuzziness of overcharging combining with shock. The air moving across his center struts confirmed missing armor, lots of his back and side armor. His front chest plates were offline, the connections still updating after being recently opened.

"She found us in your office, in a compromising position," Jazz teased, reclining as far back on the wall as he could to give the other more room, injured arm still in the sling. Both recharge bunks were slid together to provide a work surface, their separate tops distinct.

"Don't listen to him," she leaned in, visible to his peripheral vision. "You were helping Jazz clean up on the desk when I walked in. You were unhappy about upcoming repairs. We brought you here so I could start and save Ratchet time and you pain. I cannot do the final door assembly, only the prep up to the attachment. I am sorry."

"And we wanted to test a theory," Jazz smirked again, looking down at Prowl's chest plates and wide front.

"We? No, your theory," she corrected, pointing a finger and waggling it.

"What theory?" Prowl echoed, wondering what had the spy and saboteur come up with now? Then he discerned. Solspark close, his system warm and repairs going rapidly without pain.

"And my theory was a chart hit, ain't I told ya to trust me?"

::I hate you Jazz:: Prowl sent on internal comm to him only, more exasperation than anger.

::Relax buddy. You're just a metal backpack for it:: Jazz sent back.

"No, I did not see your spark before you ask. I handed the Matrix to Jazz after I ensured it was safe and it approved of you carrying it. We would never risk you. I will need it back before long, however. Unless you want more explaining to do to Ratchet than what we already must," she sighed as Jazz laughed.

"Why? What else is there?" Calculations ran, all results positive for an event occurring that he had missed and when involving Jazz meant trouble, especially if Solspark was unhappy about it.

"Don't get upset. Ratchet might process we are a trine now," Solspark hinted, puling another support line into place.

"And? Wait. Why would he?"

"As CMO he commed you earlier wanting to schedule repair time. Jazz answered for you, saying we were busy."

"And Ratchet accepted that answer?"

"Not exactly," Jazz snickered.

"Send him the picture," she softly ordered.

"No worries Prowler, image self-erased two clicks after he opened it."

Prowl froze, his logic glitch nearly tripping before he really looked at the image. The recharge room they were in with Solspark standing and her chest plates half open to hide her spark but the blurriness of the image suggesting Jazz had altered it. In front of her, himself reclining on the berth with his chest plates open facing away from her and his central parts and spark blurred out completely. The image of Jazz's hand on those plates steadying his frame, clearly on his side against the wall out of view. 'The Matrix must have been behind me, her plates were already closing,' he realized. And Ratchet couldn't see what Jazz was doing off image, which meant.

"Assuming I was like ya all spark open and for one purpose only," The white armored saboteur lost it laughing, reading Prowl's facial expressions.

"He has all our spark identifiers and will check for any changes. Barring none, he will know better than what the picture suggests," the enforcer reminded, concentrating at any feeling or response within his systems from the Matrix. There were none. Systems registered it as a dormant power source with a negligible amount of weight under his armor.

::Don't be upset. I will clear it up with Ratchet as a prank:: Solspark sent to Prowl alone, her tone reassuring.

"Don't," he said, reaching up his hand to touch hers, please she would face Ratchet on his behalf. "I have suffered worse in the service to Optimus Prime than to be misunderstood."

"What if we?" Jazz started to ask before Prowl slammed his lower hand into the other's mid riff, interrupting him.

::Do not imply that! Inappropriate to a unbonded femme and a Prime. You punched out Sunstreaker for asking if you and I were sparking, process what you are saying even in jest:: Prowl warned, his glare could have melted armor.

"What if we remind him our time is no bots business," Jazz continued verbally, accepting the silent correction from his friend. ::High grade and happy. My bad buddy::

"Prowl hold still again. The recharge overlay will activate shortly so I can begin the welds," Solspark ordered, unaware of their private conversation.

"Recharge? But I want to," he trailed off, falling under the medical sedation.

"Was that really necessary? Teasing him while injured and processor affected?" She challenged her mate, switching back to repair mode.

"What? He needs to relax. And we did need to test him hiding your Matrix. I may not always be around to keep it safe."

"I feel wrong not asking first Jazz. I know, you said he would understand but was this the right way to do it? Him of all mechs?" Solspark continued.

Jazz sat up, sliding off the end of the berths to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, careful to not disturb the metal bar in her hand. "Prowl is like you. Mech hates med bay, avoids Doc. He won't always ask or even acknowledge a need. Like your pre attachment repairs. You heard him in the office, practically begging for a way out and only because the high graded lowered his guard. Challenge."

"Challenge back at ya. And once we are finished, you realize I will have to change positions with you? He's too heavy on his back with one wing door for me to balance. I need to be in front of him on the berth. What?"

"I'm going to stop you right there sweet spark," Jazz became formal. "I love Prowl like a spark twin but no. We will use medical blocks to keep him upright. You bunk with Elita and her femmes for protection until our door lock gets installed tomorrow and I can recharge upright, guarding this one night. Need to burn off the high grade anyhow."

"Who keeps the Matrix?"

"You. Might need it in an emergency and white optics would make him look like a zombie combiner. Probably get blasted by our own more than any 'Con."

"Funny Jazz. Blasted is how you two will feel tomorrow after the high grade wears off," she finished welding a wing reinforcement bar.

_To be continued…_


	14. Chapter 14 Nightmare and what can be

It was the screaming that did it. Recharging with Jazz nearby the scream had been suppressed under his presence in her life, leaving her free. Now, away from him, it resounded with a vengeance.

The sound as shattering as the spark pouring it out, haunting Solspark's recharge and throwing her back in time. Trapping her there. The piercing cry encompassing her, her pain at failing. Entrusted with a living Matrix to protect others and she lay injured beyond the ability to send a distress call.

Quaking, the femme felt her shell waning as medical codes dimmed into grey lines across her optics, their warnings dire. Anger warred with despair as hard as the floor she laid on. All she had endured, fought for and done reduced to a shattered frame, the remaining energon leaking out ravaged lines by a medic's choice. Suffering instead of healing.

The acrid odor of her own melted spires filled her sensors; the sizzling of the repair torch as it burned into the floor a distant horror. The way it had burned her.

Her hand rose, outreaching as it shook towards the light of her greatest gift, stolen by one she trusted. The spasming of light from the Matrix through the mech's fingers faded. Solspark felt the thudding impact as the mech collapsed, the sound stopping.

A comforting warmth filled her hand as systems offlined, the closing of her remaining fingers around it with hopelessness. The once smooth shell cracked and jagged, the pain in her palm distant as it slit into her broken lines. The barely pulsing warmth unable to stop the edging cold darkness.

Power core failing.

Abandoned and betrayed.

Broken.

"_We are here. You are safe. Know us_," echoed through her. The layers of voices acting as an anchor pulling her back forward. Their sparks blazing in vibrant pulses sheltering her from the cold.

Solspark felt the strong arms go around her, holding and reassuring. Even the echo of the scream faded as memory files closed, her rough venting the only sound as the room solidified into warm existence. The femmes surrounded her, the energy signatures designated friendly and recognized. Sharing a room, the femmes recharged on a pile of pads in the center like a nest instead of recharge berths. The warriors reinforcing and protecting one another even in the safety of the Ark when not with their mates. No one spoke as they waited with her, letting Solspark recover as she kneeled shaking. Then the overhead lights triggered to brighten slowly.

"I'm sorry if my cries woke you," Solspark vented raggedly, raising her helm to see the Femme Commander facing her. Only kindness reflected in her expression as she gazed back.

"You didn't, not exactly. You never made a sound," Elita stated firmly before nodding towards the wall reflection.

Solspark glanced over, the mirror reflecting them as they surrounded her with one exception. Her. Optics bright white flaring with power. 'The light,' she realized. The memory of the attack triggering a power outlay, flaring in the dark in a room of femme warriors. Warriors having to always be on guard lest mechs target them, believing them weaker. Blue light recognized, red light instantly targeted and obliterated or challenged. Her white light an unknown and trigger to awake.

"Nice claws by the way," Chromia noted from the side, looking down.

"My what? Oh," Solspark vented softly, tugging her hands up, the large metal claws overlaying her fingers dug deep into the flooring. The metal surface rent from her scimitar double edges engaged by the need to reach out. Sheepishly Solspark flexed the back of her hands, sliding the claws back away as Hot Rod had designed and installed.

"Retractable not subspace? Handy."

Embarrassed, Solspark fumbled at what to say when they began moving.

"We are the weapon, everything else is accessories," Moonracer encouraged, rising to return to her favorite pile. The blue armored femme sent an update of the event to her mate Ratchet on an encrypted line lest Solspark hide her pain forever.

"Strength is what we gain from the madness we survive," Chromia stated, rolling over to take her spot back, weapon alongside. Her mate Ironhide while out on patrol was a strong presence in her spark, answering back a need to be with her in the morning. And a promise to offer Solspark the tools to deal with the horrors of trauma as he had Bumblebee, learned from his own existence.

"We mature with the damage, not the vorns," Firestar reminded, moving to the far wall, her spot angular to the others and facing the outer door. Her systems set to respond the fastest and automatically should the outer door be opened.

"No femme is born a warrior. You become one when you refuse to stay down," Greenlight quoted, curling on her side. The deep pitted lines in her body armor a testimony to her battle prowess.

"There's still hope is not a comfort sentence but a call to action," Lancer added, stretching out on her back next to Chromia's spot one over. Deadly even before the war, having been an officer in the Elite Guard to the Primes and High Council. Her message to her beloved Mirage, a request to help Solspark as the mate of Jazz to whom they owed their very existences.

"Remember this, you will not be my first battle, nor my last," Beta Twelve said, the eleventh femme to honor her clan lineage as she stretched out on her front, folding her arms under her head.

"When I became Elita One I had a rough time the first orn," Elita began explaining softly, focusing Solspark as they knelt facing each other. "I lost my existence as Ariel, all that I had known except Optimus. We hardly saw each other, him leading and training as the new Prime. I relieved the attack that changed us when I recharged, keeping my suffering hid from every bot around me. With him I refused to merge, making excuses the few times we shared a recharge area. I felt alone and in pain that no other would understand. Admitting to it would make me weak, a lesser being. It started to control my existence and interfere with my future."

"What happened?" Solspark practically begged, needing an answer to shut down the past, to let it go and continue in the life she wanted with Jazz and the others.

"Kup comforted me once much like this. His words changed my existence. For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen he said. A gaseous nebula must collapse. So collapse. Crumble. This is not your destruction. This is your birth. Reborn with a light that shines bright enough to help, encourage and rescue others out of darkness."

"I am not a survivor; I am a warrior. So are you. Never let any bot tell you otherwise Solspark. I have healed and am a Femme Commander by choice. As you heal fate or destiny may choose more for you. For now, rest. We will guard and face tomorrow's battles together."

Minutes later, the Femme Commander moved out of the room, reassured Solspark was recharging and shielded by the others. Each had faced their own rough times, healing as a group. While only Elita knew Solspark's true past there was no judgement in any of them for pain displayed. Elita walked the deserted corridors heading for the office and recharge area of the one who doubled her joys and made every sacrifice worth it. The office door slid noiselessly open, recognizing her immediately and granting access. The inner door to the side she stopped at.

::Optimus are you awake?:: Elita sent softly, open channel without any priority marking. The pink and white armored femme waited patiently. If no answer returned then she would continue to her smaller side office to catch up on reports and shift schedules knowing how little rest her mate earned.

::What is wrong?:: Optimus answered almost immediately, his regal tone alert.

::Nothing. I wanted to see you, unless you are busy?:: Elita asked, giving him the choice to set the time.

::Busy remembering a beautiful femme in my arms more a memory than reality:: Optimus answered, the tone encouraging.

::Then let's check reality. I am at your inner door now:: Elita announced, waiting. The door opened, two large red armored arms reaching out and dragging her inside into a tight hug against his frame before she had time to react.

"My beloved Ariel," he vented, his engine humming.

"My Orion," she murmured savoring the strength of his arms, the gentleness as he rested his head on her helm.

"Stay with me?"

"Always. Can I recharge here? Hey!" She giggled, being swung up in the air against his simulated glass front and carried to their extra wide recharge berth. "Is that a yes? I was worried you were already resting, and I would disturb you."

"Never," he rumbled, laying her down on the berth then climbed up and over her. His intense blue optics stared into hers as her venting increased, his weight supported on his arms. "Yes, I want you. Yes, I need you. Yes, you are all I desire. Recharge later femme," he smirked. The rapid pulsing of his spark and frame domination over hers made her vents hitch. "Keep your optics online?" he asked softly.

"Why?" Elita shuttered her optics rapidly, a reaction he enjoyed seeing. It was not often he could surprise her after all their time as partners.

"I dreamed of their light for over a thousand years while we were separated across the worlds," he tenderly caressed her helm with one hand. Elita vented harder before pressing her faceplates to his, nuzzling up the side of his faceplates. Ghosting over her metal, hitting every sensory node, she warmed quickly under his deft touches.

Sitting up, he reached and lifted her up, bracing her before him on the recharge berth. "Merge with me?" Any hesitation, any fear or resistance and he would stop instantly.

"I want you...merge," Elita gasped out, her cooling fans audibly whirring. Her frame tightened before a seam appeared in her center chest plates. With the transform sound, they slid slowly to the sides and upward.

Without a word, his chest plates began to slide and move to the outer edges in transformation. The brilliance of his surging spark reflected in her optics. Her spark surged, tendrils of white energy reaching for his. The energy crackled, wrapping and fighting to weave together.

THEY WERE ONE BEING

THEY WERE ONE SOUL

THEY WERE ONE

The sun rose over the forest, its light the promise of a new day as nature responded with animal calls and rustling breezes. Inside the Ark Hound stared at the updated schedule, both glad and perplexed as an unscheduled personal rest day showed across every Command entry except medical for ongoing repairs. 'Hmm. Even Optimus and Elita are off schedule. Prowl is unavailable then repairs tonight, never known him not to work. Wonder what the occasion is?'

_To be continued…_

_Author's Notes: A short and sweet update. More to focus on Solspark, Jazz, Prowl and Decepticons and Cybertronian history during war events. _


End file.
